


Ratlet

by Pigalet



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cannibalism, Cannibalistic Thoughts, Dehydration, Denial of Feelings, Drug Use, Families of Choice, Graphic Description, Gunshot Wounds, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Love Confessions, M/M, Major Character Injury, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Multi, Murder, Post-Apocalypse, Prostitution, Recreational Drug Use, Safeword Fail, Safeword Use, Scarification, Slow Build, Starvation, Supernatural Elements, Trans Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes, Trans Roadhog | Mako Rutledge, Unsafe Sex, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-12-26 14:00:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 65,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18283733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pigalet/pseuds/Pigalet
Summary: Neither of them knew what they were getting themselves into as they shook hands. Sweat and dust between their fingers as they stared one another down. Fifty-fifty. Equal parts of a treasure the Queen was so desperate after that she had placed a lovely little bounty on a stringy blonde head. A bounty that would surely fuck them over time and time again, and yet their hands held firm. It was a hell of a risk, but most things worth their grit were...Right?This is a complete account of Junkrat and Roadhog's travels through the Wasteland and beyond, starting directly after striking a deal in the streets of Junkertown.(Fic is the product of an ongoing RP, so formatting may be off as there are two narratives throughout.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story would not have been possible without Sleepwalks! 
> 
> Many interactions/mishaps throughout this fic were decided with the use of a D20. All major conversations, events, and progress are true to our rolls. 
> 
> Hopefully you enjoy the spontaneity like we do!
> 
> Have any questions? Feel free to hmu on twitter @unglysus

"Fine! Fifty percent, and that's my final offer!" Junkrat threw out his arms in exasperation, trotting alongside the behemoth of a man as he headed towards the gates of Junkertown. "Lucky I'm feelin' generous, mate. You got yourself a real deal today, lemme tell ya that much. But uh... we should probably be beatin' a path somewhere a little less populous?" His voice lifted into a squeak, looking around himself. "Gonna be more where those blokes came from, if the Queen's got some idea floatin' around in that noggin of hers. Shite, I should probably stop saying these things out loud. That's what got me in trouble in the first place right?" he rattled on, cackling a little frantically as he put a little more spring in his step to beat a path out of the city. leaving his newly acquired bodyguard to trail after him.

 

Roadhog could not help but roll his eyes beneath his mask at the man's constant yapping. He was loud, arrogant, and jumpy. None of those things made for a good travel companion and now he was stuck with a stick of a man that encompassed the definition of annoying.

 

Sparing a glance down at the other as they made their way through the wide streets, Hog let out a sigh. "Right." He mumbled, answering the man's rhetorical question in hopes that his agreeance would make the man think twice about opening his mouth again, though he doubted it if the look he had gotten at the merc he had sent flying out the door was any indication. The Junker had blabbed about something and pissed off the Queen-His eyes dragged themself away from the other in favor of looking back up at the yawning gate-well that made two of them, he guessed.

 

"Right! Can't keep my bloody mouth shut!" Junkrat laughed, looking over his shoulder, trying to see if anyone else was following. Not yet. Okay. Good. He just needed to be discreet! Just walk right on out like nothing was the matter. Of course, if he'd just been discreet to begin with, no one would even know anything was amiss.

 

He was not good at discrete.

 

"...It wasn't even my fault, you know. I was just scrappin' like I always do. I didn't even think I'd find anything special. Lotta good it's done me. Can't even unload the bloody thing!" Shut up, he willed himself. But he was extra nervous, right now. And nerves meant talking. "Ever get something too good to even unload? Miserable thing, mate! Not that I'd know. I didn't find a damn thing."

 

Hog turned his head to face front as soon as Rat whipped his around for a peek behind them as if anyone would really attempt to throw themselves in Hog's way, and while any other day he never had to think twice about that happening today seemed to be an extra rare occurrence. Whatever the junker found had to be good enough for people to forget their own fucking common sense. That was for sure.

 

Roadhog grunted noncommittally at his skiddish employers chattering speech, habitually following down the path that wound down through Junkertown. His boots kicking up dust along the way as the sun warmed the leather stretched across his shoulders pleasantly. "Not a damn thing?" What sounded like a muffled snort sounded from the man. "You're shit at scrappin'."

 

In response Junkrat blinked a few times, pulling his chin back and squinting up at the big guy. He was not! He was goddamn amazing, if he did say so himself. And he did. Frequently. But this time, instead he broke into a wide, crooked grin, gave a more than obvious wink, and nodded vigorously. "Complete shite. Gonna starve, you know? Woe is Junkrat, on this miserable day!" He slapped a hand to his chest, eyes closing as he tossed his head back dramatically.

 

"But!" One eye snapped open. "With this new partnership of ours, completely unrelated to anything I may or may not have previously found and owe you twenty-eight percent of, I'm sure things will turn around." He looked up to Hog, his smile a little more uncertain than before.

 

Most definitely querying. "Right, mate?"

 

Despite himself, a low rumbling laugh shook Roadhog's belly at the man's antics. Was this guy for real? Surely he was just playing some part or attempting an elaborate scheme of some sort because no one was this much of an idiot. Rather than comment on the other junker's performance, he just pointed a large bejeweled finger at the man's ribs and let out another amused snort. "Already starvin' from the looks of it." It had to be fairly embarrassing to admit that you were shit at scrapping and honestly, Roadhog was living for it. Some humiliation would serve him right for making him waste his beer.

 

However that did not seem to be the case.

 

Junkrat, a fitting name, seemed the opposite of shamed as he began to babble once more drawing a pause from Hog that had him jabbing a finger at the man's scrawny chest. "Fifty percent." He was not playing games for a twenty-eighth percentage of the pie. He kept his finger there, a firm pressure against that sternum as Rat looked down to the finger poking his chest, then back up to the mask. And then right back down to his finger. He held up his own hand, comparing the size against him for a moment, before he gave a low whistle. "...Fuck me mate, you really are a biggun. I mean I knew that, I can see. But yeah-- fifty percent. I'm just playin', I remember." He grinned. He totally would have gone back down the moment he thought he could get away with it, but he had a feeling this guy wasn't gonna tolerate fudging the numbers.

 

The whole show of comparing the size of their hands had the larger junker rolling his eyes once again behind his mask, this time wishing the man could see the expression on his face in hopes that it would dull the wattage in that smile a little. The only positive Hog took from the break in conversation was the silence. Nice and quiet. Peaceful almost as they drew closer.

 

And the serenity of it all came crashing down the moment Hog heard the man take an inhale to begin chattering once more. God. Did he ever shut up?

 

No. The answer was a resounding 'No'.

 

Junkrat did not always get a laugh out of people, and that deep rumble of a thing was encouraging to hear. Much better than the guy throwing up his hands and walking away from the wall of noise that was Rat when he was particularly nervous. He scoffed softly as they approached the city gates. "And please! I'm only half-starved, thank you very much. Just like most everybody else out here. You must be tough as hell to keep that kinda meat on ya," he said cheerily, reaching out to give Hog a cordial slap on the belly.

 

He hardly even registered the comment on his size. It was something he had grown used to a long long time ago and it was something he could easily tune out. What he could not ignore, however, was the slap across his stomach causing his flesh to jiggle under the force of it. Staring down at the very faint imprint of Rat's hand, Hog wordlessly reached out and patted the man on the back roughly. A dull thump of his palm meeting the man's spine in retaliation. "I am."

 

Rat had a brief moment of internal panic. Oh. Oh, he'd slapped the belly. Maybe he should not have slapped the belly. He just met this person. They had a tenuous three-minute comradery based on the promise of a treasure Rat had failed to give so much as a sniff of a detail about. And most importantly, he'd learned very well over his years of life that every person had a cap on exactly how much of his shit they'd deal with.

 

So when the response came with a thump of a smack to his scrawny back, all he did was cackle with relief. Okay! Okay. This worked! He surged ahead a few steps to run off the burst of energy, flipping around to move backwards towards the gate so he could keep talking at Hog. "Never had a-- what are you, even? A bodyguard or sommin'? Never had one before! I move around by meself, honestly. Easier that way! I know I'm not gonna stab me in the back, after all," he laughed, flipping back around as the door began to crank open.

 

Roadhog watched him with half-lidded eyes. It was as if the man somehow zapped the energy of all others standing around them, draining them of willpower all for the sake of keeping his mouth going. He hoped that whatever he had silent agreed to would not end up to be long lasting. A job or two and he could strike out on his own once more instead of being-well...Hog shrugged his shoulders, the leather shuffling at the action. "Bodyguard 's good." He replied, because he really did not know what else he would be, let alone why he was hired if the man who hired him did not even know what he was there for. But he had to hand it to the other, he had to have some brain in that skull if he knew he had a high probability of being stabbed in the back.

 

He squinted, poking his head through the gap to peer suspiciously around-- and his paranoia was rewarded. A heavy gloved hand snapped down on his neck the second he appeared, hauling him to the side. A pair of junkers stood in wait, a pierced and spikey-haired man gripping him by the scruff. "Little shit. I don't know what the hell you did, but--"

 

Just as the doors open and Rat poked his head outside, anxious bastard, he was gone leaving Hog to blink slowly at the gate as it continued to open slowly because he sure as hell was not about to squeeze through there. Whatever was going on, Rat could wait.

 

The two junkers continued to verbally tear into Rat until one of the idiots saw Roadhog as the gate continued to widen, smacking his companion's arm with increasing urgency until he looked up. The junker's words drifted, brows shooting upwards. He just sort of... dropped Rat where he stood, before he so much as had to reach for a weapon.

 

Junkrat of course skittered back, nervous eyes flicking from Hog to the pair, and back again, before he just fucking booked it. "COME ON, MATE! I'M SO BLOODY DONE HERE!"

 

Folding his arms over his harnessed chest, Hog raised a brow at the scene that had unfolded before him. Junkrat skittering away from the two punks that quickly tucked their tails between their legs at the sight of him. Staring down at the two of them for a long judgmental moment, he turned to follow Rat without so much as word to the junkers. It was better than wasting his energy on two sacks of shit, and while Rat may have booked it from the scene, Hog continued his steady pace. Content to walk away from the gate with an amused snort. "I'm comin'." He replied.

 

Rat ran on for a minute, before he stopped to let Hog's slower pace catch up with him. He didn't rush him, though. His eyes were on the Junkertown gates, and no one seemed to be pursuing. Wherever the thugs were that snagged him, they truly seemed to have thought better of it. He gave Hog a wide, relieved grin when he finally approached. It took a while and maybe if Rat had been paying less attention to the gate he would have noticed Hog purposefully slowing his pace. Taking his sweet time as he enjoyed the silence that came along with distance until he seemed to cross the line into Junkrat's bubble, causing the man to open his trap as soon as he was close.

 

"Just the sight of ya did the trick! Think I made myself a damn good friend to keep in me back pocket," he cackled. "What're ya called, anyways? What'd the guys say back there? Piggy or something?"

 

Grunting in agreement, he lifted his shoulders once more. Those that were smart knew to not go up against him and those that were dumb? Well they were also probably dead.

 

Wait. What?

 

"Roadhog." He corrected with a huff. Piggy? Really? He could go the rest of his life without being called that. "You're Junkrat?" He poked a finger in his direction, downwards, with a snort.

 

"Heh. You're small. It fits."

 

"Hoggie! Sorry, sorry, musta misheard. I--" And then he stopped, aghast. For a glorious moment of silence, Junkrat was without words. And then he straightened to his full height, chest puffed out proudly. "I am not small, thank you very much! I'm not the size of a modest artillery tank, but I'm head and shoulders over most! Look! Look at this." He vigorously drew a line with the flat of his hand, moving from the top of his hair outwards as if he were against some useful unit to measure himself against.

 

He wasn't. And he was stealing inches from the tips of that patchy hair.

 

He huffed, dropping back down into his usual slouch as he moved onward and away from the city, keeping pace with Hog this time. No more breaks in the noise for you.

 

He visibly winced. That was almost worse than Piggy. Not it was worse. Definitely, but the sudden zip of Rat's mouth was almost audible as he was stunned into silence, offering Hog a moment of bliss that he fully cherished and instantly craved once the man began to huff and puff next to him inflating into something that reminded him of the horror stories he had heard as a kid. Long lanky limbs and skinny ribs. He frowned. Gross.

 

He was almost tempted to reach out and press him back down. Force him to shrink beneath the weight of his palm but to his surprise the junker was actually taller than he initially thought. Taller than what he normally saw anyway and just as soon as he realized it the man was melted into the hunchback once more. "Still small to me." He shot back, happy to rub that truth in the other's face as he continued on down the dirt path.

 

Junkrat pulled a face at that fact, nose wrinkling. "...Yeah, well! I mean. That's-- that's neither here nor there! I'm not small overall. To most people. You're just." He looked to him, before thrusting out both arms in indication towards the man. BIG. You're big.

 

Roadhog was sure by the end of the day he would have a headache from rolling his eyes so much at the man's antics. Yes of course he was big. Were their conversations just going to be stating facts at one another. Or maybe they were going to go back and forth and remark on the size of rocks. Gee that would be exciting.

 

He was not sure where to even take the man. His shack? He cringed at the thought of another in his private space touching his possessions. "We goin' somewhere?" He asked, wanting the man to take the lead again rather than walking side by side with him.

 

At the question, his scrawny employer stopped, turning in place briefly, eyes squinted. "...Well... I mean. I got some hideouts here n' there, but. Not to beleaguer the point, but I'm not sure we'd both wedge in there quite right. Kinda part of my defenses. Jam in somewhere so tight, no one can get in after ya more than one at a time. The bigger spot I got ain't much better, and it's up in Junkertown. Think I need to let that place cool off a few days, let the Queen get this notion of hers out of her head," he said with a thready little laugh.

 

"So I guess I mean... I don't know." He looked to Hog, grin faltering slightly. "Ah... you got any ideas?"

 

Just as he was tempted to push one of Rat's arms down, the man turned causing Hog to pause as well. Head tipped down to stare more so at the man's balding head than his face. Huh. He squinted at the patches until they turned into shapes and only then did he realize the other was talking. Oh good. He was already starting to tune the other out, however when he did finally listen in the man's words had his shoulders lowering a centimeter in defeat. He had to be the unluckiest bastard in Oz. "Got a place." He grunted, not bothering to look back at Rat as he took off suddenly, but by no means was he moving quickly. Just a steady pace will do. "You nick anything, I'll gut you." He warned only three quarters of the way meaning it.

 

He held up his hands defensively for a brief moment, before he was trotting along to catch back up to Hog's side. "I'm gonna be on me best behavior! Cross my heart." And he did so, drawing the X over his scarred chest with a metallic finger.. "I saw what you did to those blokes at the bar. Trust me, I wanna stay on your good side. Not everybody takes up an offer like I made, and I don't wanna fuck this up!" He grinned ear to ear. "I owe ya one. Well. I mean, I owe ya half, but we'll say I owe ya one on top of it."

 

Hog glanced behind him just in time to see those hands before the man limped on after him to catch up and while it would have been easy to pick up the pace in an attempt to leave him behind, he was aware he was slower and while the other had what looked to be a stick as a leg, Hog was pretty damn sure the man would come bumbling after him. He had run pretty quickly from the front gates after all.

 

The other junker's words had his brows furrowing. Had he ever directly agreed to this in the first place? The real reason he had even intervened rather than watch the blonde get pummeled was because that fuck had insulted him and while Hog did not have many things he did have pride.

 

That was for sure.

 

"Treasure or not, you're paying me." He commented as he made his way down the path edging along the cliff where a speck in the distance appeared and Hog's form almost relaxed but stopped short of doing so at the reminder of his current baggage. " Service ain't free." He added in once the path began to slope slightly as they drew closer and closer to the building in the distance. It was not far from Junkertown by any means and in fact it was pretty well known that Hog lived there and yet he was hardly ever bothered. Save for earlier that day. Hmm.

 

"Oh, the treasure's--" Rat paused, looking about himself carefully, before leaning in and lowering his voice, eyes earnest. "The treasure is real," he stage whispered, before quickly lifting his finger to his grinning lips. "Real as sin. But I was serious, I can't move it. Shit's too hot to sell. I gotta figure it out, so... I mean. I don't have lot of money on me. You take my word for it on this though, it's gonna be a serious payoff. Plus! I mean, I owe ya one. And a Junkrat favor is a favor to hold onto."

 

He tossed him a sloppy salute at that. Well... if nothing else, he definitely didn't seem to have a hard time keeping up. His energy was running high, and while his limping gait was an uneven thing, it was quick and light at Hog's side. And it was about to be quick and light in the opposite direction, if this guy didn't handle the idea of delayed payment very well.

 

Hog did not take the news very well. He stopped and turned on the other, staring down at him for a long moment as his thick arms crossed over his chest looking every bit the imposing figure he had been hired to be. "Don't care if it's real or not, this ain't a charity." He drew the line in the sand and could Rat really blame him? Junkertown was full to bursting with crooks who would gladly stab you in the back the moment you turned away from them, and he assumed this junker was no different from the rest of them.

 

Rat skittered back to keep out of arm's reach-- he was quick, and he was paranoid. He wasn't about to let this get out of control if he could help it. "What, do ya want a pittance today or a fortune tomorrow, mate? Ya pushed up to half my take! What I got? It might be bloody priceless. Trust me, when this all ends, you're gonna be kickin' yaself, choking on sandy beer in that same old pub, wishin' you'd taken the chance."

 

He scratched at his cheek, frame poised to bolt. "...So. What'dya think? I mean-- I got a little money to tide ya over, but I ain't got much. Ya at least not going unpaid for today. But what I've got tucked away is life changin' kind of shit. What the hell are you doin' that's better than that? Ya so happy in this sand pile that ya don't want more?"

 

Hnn.

 

As much as Hog loathed to admit it, Junkrat had a point. Sure the man could be full of shit and probably was but was he really content living how he was now? The thought had never crossed his mind much before. Survival was survival and that was usually that. There was no thinking on it, there was only doing and that was what kept him alive for so long but...he was not as young as he used to be. The aches in his joints in the mornings before his stretches and workout usually had him cursing beneath his breath and while Hog was capable of continuing said life, did he want to?

 

After a long pause, his arms slowly dropped from their crossed position over his chest, with the tiniest hint of a nod. "Priceless.." He tried out the word, eyes glancing off to the side before zeroing in on the other as he huffed out a sigh that rattled the filters on the sides of his mask. "Fine. We've got a deal." He did not say much after that, preferring to turn and continue on towards the wooden shack as the sun overhead began to slowly dip.

 

A leery relief filled Junkrat, his careful eyes fixed on that mask as Hog turned to go. He carefully followed, still staying just beyond reach. They were getting closer to that shack, and Rat's paranoia climbed along with the proximity. They needed a safe place to weather the night, sure. He'd prompted Hog for the idea. But strange buildings were dangerous, and he wasn't entirely convinced Hog wasn't faking going along with the plan just to keep him coming along.

 

So his attention was on high alert as they approached, frame crouched and cautious. "...We got a deal," he repeated, gingerly leaning to peer through a window. He flashed Hog a brief smile, checking his positioning. Not too close. "Ya won't regret it, mate."

 

"Sure." Roadhog replied, the disbelief in his tone still somewhat evident despite being filtered through his mask. Standing in place as Rat peeked through the cracked glass of his window, he watched the man for a moment before he ascended the two large steps up to the porch, the soft creak of wood sounding as his weight was applied to the boards. The other could stand outside all he wanted but Hog was going inside.

 

Upon inspection of the window, Rat would not be able to see much of the shack inside mostly due to the moth eaten curtain blocking the majority of the view. However the the view became a little cleared once Hog lit a candle inside revealing the rough shape of a bed in the far corner and what looked to be a cabinet of sorts. The view of which was quickly obscured once Roadhog jerked the curtain shut. "Peeping tom." He rumbled, hoping the comment would force the man to stop fooling around and come inside.

 

The shack itself was by no means large but someone with a decent amount of claustrophobia would be pressed to bust out the window upon spending 24 hours within the building. It had a small makeshift table with accompanying chair, a tiny kitchenette that Hog often had to fuss with to get working and a bed that had obviously been custom made by shoving a few salvaged frames together until Roadhog found something that suited his tastes just fine. It was modest and in no way as nice as the buildings in Junkertown were with their steel plating and fancy plastics, but it was well lived in and cared for. And it was his.

 

That's what mattered the most.

 

Rat extended his neck a little, eyes scanning over what he could see of the dimly lit interior, trying to take in any sign of danger. But what he saw gave him little to go on, before the curtain was jerked shut in front of him. He straightened a little in surprise, before he broke into peals of laughter at Hog's words. "Got me there, mate!"

 

Cautiously, he rounded on the door, poking his head in there, instead. Much less creepy. But hell, he was taking his time and being sure. You lived longer, when you were sure of where you were stepping. It was all just a bit of runned down furniture, from the looks of it. And so after a moment's further hesitation, he slunk inside the door, skinny frame lingering awkwardly in the entryway like a wayward coat rack.

 

If there was one thing Rat didn't have to worry about, it was claustrophobia. Half the places he worked himself into to sleep were tight enough that he felt the literal press of the walls against his sides-- in crawl spaces, narrow gaps in old, defunct machinery, the occasional old air duct. He hadn't been lying about his sleeping strategy. If only one person fit to come after you at a time, if they could even fit wherever he'd manage to wedge that skinny body of his, and you knew the narrow passage better... well, then you were going to live. His eyes were already scanning for some narrow crack that Hog wouldn't have a chance of exploring.

 

"Nice, ah... nice place ya got here. Very, ah.... Rustic! Yeah." He smiled wide, but still looked stiff as a board.Hesitating clearly before finally he caved.

 

The moment Rat managed to drag himself in through the door, Hog's skin prickled. His private space, his home, was currently being invaded and while he had willingly brought the man there it was not like he was happy about it. But it was safer here. Confined. A familiar place where he could decidedly pin the man for what he was, whatever that may be Hog was not quite sure yet, but it was better to be somewhere familiar than to sit in the dirt somewhere. He was pretty damn sure about.

 

After a long beat of silence where Hog kind of just stood awkwardly by the kitchenette, he let out a rumbling sigh and forced himself to turn his back on the other as he dipped his worn ceramic kettle into a bucket on the counter. The glug of water that sounded at the action seemed amplified by the silence until that comment slipped out of Rat, causing his eyes to cut over to glance at the man as he wordlessly dropped the kettle on the rattiest propane stove in existence. It might have looked like shit but hell it still worked and that was enough for him.

 

Rustic? He looked at his home, a wooden one room cube with little to offer Rat in tiny nooks and crannies, brows furrowed tight. He had only seen the word used in homemaker magazines before things had gone to shit and what he had here was the furthest thing from what a middle aged white lady managed to cobble together with a feather, an empty wine bottle, and a ball of twine. "Mhm." He wordlessly grunted as he turned back to his task at hand. Boiling water. "You're lettin' bugs in." Hog added after a long moment of attempting to pluck the tiniest match in the world from its equally tiny box. An incredibly menial task but one he was silently struggling with.

 

Junkrat's chest felt just a little tight as he stepped away from the door and let it click shut behind him. He looked back at it for a moment, attention snapping from the door to Hog, making sure he hadn’t moved. Didn’t look like there was much of anywhere to slide between the cracks and disappear, either. A tight, thin little noise sounded in his throat. Nope. This was not comfortable. He just kinda crouched down where he was, sticking by that door like glue.

 

“Sooooo...”. His voice trailed. “How... long ya been here?” The words were thin, heavy with anxiety. But the silence was most definitely not working for him.

 

"A while." The bodyguard replied, plucking one of the matches from the worn box so that he could quickly light the stove and thumb out the burning stump of a match.

 

With that taken care of, he turned around to lean against the kitchenette with his arms crossed. Taking the time to really get a good look at the man now that they were not out on the road and he was not twitching about.

 

The dark lenses tinged his vision with its usual dose of exciting grays and muted colors and while it effectively made everything seem grubbier than it actually was, Rat was by far the grubbiest thing he had seen. All skin and bones and soot. And with the man basically cowering against the door, Hog felt more like he took in a feral stray rather than gaining an employer.

 

Great.

 

"Wantin' a cuppa?" He eventually drawled, indicating the quietly bubbling kettle as it began to boil. Hog was not sure what he was supposed to do now that Rat had seemed to quiet down and while the silence as they exited Junkertown had been something he craved now it was just...awkward.

 

Yep. Awkward.

 

Rat squinted at the question. Yes, he wanted a cuppa. He also didn't want to end up drugged and robbed and tossed over a cliff. I mean, robbed of what, really. But just the same, not a good scenario. He looked to the door one last time, giving the knob a jostle to make sure he wasn't locked in, and then he straightened up and crept forward. "Yeah! Yeah, I'll make it," he said quickly, with a forced nonchalance that was utterly unconvincing.

 

Bright eyes scanned over everything he passed. The battered furniture. The floorboards that were silent under his comparatively meager weight. The ceiling that gave no hint of helpful air ducts to hide in. "So awhile, yeah? You've been here awhile? Looks like. Looks heaps different than Junkertown. I mean, I've been in plenty of places that weren't Junkertown, for scrappin' and all? But I've lived there since I was a tyke. Not too teeny, though. Had to get there first."

 

Silence, strange places, new people-- it was all weird. He was killing one of those things, and silence was the easiest to handle. "Now lemme see that tea, yeah?"

 

A snort escaped Roadhog at the man's façade, watching as he went through the motions of a cornered rat which was completely humorous to Hog seeing as the man was the one so intent on keeping this thing going. But that really was none of his business, was it? He wasn't paid to analyze the man, he was paid to keep him from getting killed. In fact he was not getting paid shit it seemed until the treasure cooled enough to handle. Ugh. The very reminder made his head ache.

 

But first? Tea.

 

Hog turned around to open up the overhead kitchen cupboard. The one that had a missing door that revealed half of the contents and yet he still insisted on opening the other side to reveal small unlabeled jars of dried leaves. "Have at it." He replied, scooting away from the kitchenette so he could sit at his makeshift table with a long sigh as he relaxed and rested his loosely clasped hands on top of his stomach. More than happy to let the other make his own cup because it meant less work for him.

 

Now that he was out of the way, his meager kitchen was revealed fully. The worn plywood of the bar. The makeshift sink made out of a hole in said bar with a bucket shoved into place. The rickety cabinets filled with a few bowls, plates, and cups all of which oversized and the color of bright red soil, a clear indication that they were made of dirt and clay. It wasn't much, but it was enough and that's what mattered.

 

Rat tensed for a moment as Hog moved past... and then he was sitting. He relaxed visibly, scooting to snatch up the leaves and pop the lid from the jar, lowering his head to take a thorough sniff, keeping his side-eye on Hog the whole while. "So ya done a lot of bodyguardin'? You do this kinna thing a lot?" He popped up onto the plywood bartop, peg leg crossing over his knee to bounce continuously where it hung. "Betcha do. Bet heaps of people want you to. That and... what, ya a bouncer or some shit? OH! Bounty hunter."

 

He stopped at that guess, grimacing a little. Shit, well, hopefully not. If the queen was after him and he'd gotten out of the city, a bounty was sure to come next.

 

Hog figured the man wanted an answer but as soon as he opened his mouth to confirm what the man first asked the other had moved on, which was fine with him. He took the time to settle in a bit idly watching as the man hefted himself up on the counter, and while anyone else might have scolded the man, Hog didn't even blink. He could not give less of a shit if he tried.

 

"'M not a hunter." He clarified rather quickly. Being associated with those snakes turned his stomach. So what if you pissed off a few people or killed a brother or two? Whatever happened happened and if you wanted revenge you did it yourself. You didn't hire someone to do it for you. "Ain't a rat." The word came out as barely more than a hiss as he drew a long rattling breath.

 

Junkrat blinked once, before he broke into cackling laughter. "Well good, we can't have two rats about! Way, way too confusing," he snickered, craning around to paw for a cup. "Oy, you got some mesh or sommin for the tea? Or just dump it in and drink through ya teeth for the leaves?" ..Honestly, he'd done it both ways, and didn't really have a preference. "You want a cuppa, too?"

 

And then he hesitated. "OH. And I ain't that kinda rat, just so ya know. I'm a me kinda Rat. Never much liked bounty huntin'. You just piss off one little person, and they come for the dirty work. No thank you, I'll pick me scraps myself."And those words actually had Roadhog pausing.

 

Well...good.

 

At least they were on the same page about that, which meant Hog would never have to deal with a hunter while under the employ of Rat..unless of course he was dealing with them by forcing them to look down the barrel of his gun and if that was the case he was fine with it. Hell he'd look forward to working for Junkrat if it meant putting a few of those bastards in the ground.

 

"Use your teeth." Roadhog grumbled suddenly. He had a strainer. He was not an animal but Rat did not need to know that. Hog then thought about the idea of Rat making him a cuppa and while he did not want to get up, he also did not know where the man's grubby fingers had been. Hmmm. Hog blinked slowly. "Yeah. Make me a cuppa." If the man was going to offer he might as well save himself the trouble. It wasn't like his hands were that much cleaner.

 

The scrawny junker just nodded vigorously a few times, craning round to snatch up another dirt-colored mug. "Sooo ya like pottery?" he asked, balancing it on his fingertips before he placed it down on the counter, delving into the tea with bare fingers. He pinched out a measurement, dropping a couple of pinches into each cup with a practiced motion. He'd done this his share of times. "I got me one at home? Old ceramic. Like proper ceramic, from before. They got a few like that in Junkertown though, guess that's not that special. But still, it's mine. Looted it outta a house up north a ways."

 

"What? No. Needed somethin' bigger." Hog replied in reference to Rat's pottery question as he reminded the man, as if that was truly necessary, that he was larger than average with an idle lift of his palm. He waved it pointedly before it dropped down to his belly once more where he snorted. Amused that he had been proven right. " You're a shit scrapper." He rumbled as his legs kicked out a bit for an audible stretch and popping of joints. "Lootin' cups? Kid shit."

 

A near nuclear orange gaze rolled. "I'm just makin' conversation! Not listin' out me best finds. I like that bloody mug. The best shit, I didn't even keep for myself. Gotta sell that shit, keep it movin'. But the best of the best? Was this." He thrusted out his metallic arm, wiggling the fingers. "Ha. Tell me I'm a shit scrapper. Fully functional now, too! Been doing my own adjustments," he said, more than a hint of pride in his voice. "See how mucha this fully articulated shit you still find around, outside of a mech arena mate."

 

Now that drew a pause from Hog. One that actually had him leaning forward for a better look. He had to admit an arm was not something you usually found. Well at least not a metal one anyway. Hog internally cringed at the thought of all the times he had started to tear down a building for scrap only to reach down and grasp an old withered limb. But this was ten times better than that and despite himself he let out a slightly impressed noised. "Good find." He was tempted to ask where the man had even come across such a thing but he knew better. Scrappers didn't share shit like that, not if they wanted to live long. "You fix things?" He asked, genuine curiosity in his muffled voice.

 

And Rat beamed, more than pleased to have gotten that impressed little noise out of the man.

 

Any kind of positive reinforcement, he'd take. "Yeah! Fix shit real good. Can find just about anything out there, and it's gonna be worth more if it's up in workin' order. Made all these, too!" And he did something that was probably not smart. Pretty definitely not smart, but he was showing off and he wasn't thinking about it. He reached into his baggy cargo pocket, and plucked out a brightly painted grenade.

 

Hog blinked hard as the man's hand dived into those ugly ass shorts. Digging into what had to be the deepest pockets in the world until the paint spackled thing was shown off with a grin.

 

He squinted at first, not really sure what it was for a good minute until he spotted the pin on top and while the normal response probably would have been to yell at the man and tell him to get that explosive the fuck out of his house, Hog laughed. A fully belly type of thing that had him pushing up to sit a little more interested in his chair. "That shit work? Show me."Junkrat immediately straightened a little, beaming in sheer pride.

 

"Fuck yeah it does! Prime shit. I'm good as sin with explosives. Been makin' em almost so long as I've been scrounging around Junkertown." He... looked like an explosives sort of guy, with his missing bits and pieces, his soot-covered self and singed hair. He hopped from the counter quickly, hurrying over to hold the grenade so Hog could see it. He stopped shy of handing it over, though. He trusted his explosives, but he didn't necessarily trust anyone else to handle them.

 

"My own design! Internal, external, everything. Each one hand wrought and painted." He grinned, waggling his brows. "Do mines, too. Could be useful round here, you know? Nothin' screams 'Stay off my fuckin' property' like an active minefield."

 

Hog snorted as the man drew closer, leaning to get a good peek at the brightly colored thing with a raised brow. Junkrat certainly looked the part of explosive expert but in all honesty he had just assumed the other junker got the shit kicked out of him on a usual basis. That usually explained why people looked kinda fucked up and grubby.

 

"Mines?" He asked quite liking that mental image. A big huge fuck you to everyone who so much as glanced at his property. Ah. That was a nice idea. A real nice idea.  
Shifting a little in his seat causing the wood to creak beneath him. He pointed to the door and made to stand.

 

"Show me. Prove it works."

 

Rat looked at the tea kettle, holding up a finger as he rushed over to finish making the tea. Surely the water had enough time to get hot by now. He poured it over the loose leaves, shoving one at Hog with a grin. "Alright. Now I'm ready." And he was out the door. Easily latching onto the cup, Hog held it carefully between his palms as he made to follow the junker out, unable to tamp out the fire of curiosity that smoldered in his gut.

 

He most definitely did not need to be asked twice for a demonstration. That much was clear as the shorter junker raced out into the yard, eyeballing the house as he backed away, measuring out a safe distance. And then he fished the heavy disc of the mine from his other massive cargo pocket, tucking it down and nestling it into the red dust. He held his teacup in one hand as he flicked a little switch to arm the thing, grabbed a rock, and hustled back to the porch with a broad smile. "Ready?"

 

If the junker had managed to master explosives in a fucking wasteland, Hog was going to have to reevaluate his initial perception of the man. Sure he was scrawny, talked too much, and was a liar. While that was not necessarily a set of beneficial attributes, being able to craft was and Hog was more than ready to benefit from that partnership.

 

Watching the man scurry about, teacup cupped in his large hands, Roadhog gave a nod. He was more than ready to witness what had to be the saddest fireworks show in existence.  
Rat nodded, chucking the rock towards the mine. And... he missed.

 

He stood there a second, before he huffed a breath through his nose and set down his teacup on the step. He grabbed a couple more rocks and... one went way left. One overshot. His expression flattened, steeling himself before he reared back, winding up the final bowl before he flung it dead-on.

 

BAM!

 

It blew perfectly, a ball of fire and shrapnel, the safety plate spinning into the air and soaring over the house. He whooped, fists in the air victoriously. "See?!" he shouted back, ears ringing with the familiar squeal of tinnitus.

 

Hog's expression dropped as he watched Rat flail about. He leaned against the beam of the porch with an amused snort as once again another rock missed its target and just as Hog was about to begin a brutal ribbing, Rat hit his mark causing all of Hog's words to come out is the tiniest of gasps.

 

He could feel heat. Like the sunshine streaming through a window on a summer's day and he was almost tempted to shut his eyes. To relish in some forged imagery that made him miss how things used to be. But he forced himself to keep them open. To watch the fire swirl and dance across the dirt as shrapnel rained from the heavens while Rat whooped.

 

The corner of his mouth curled beneath the mask as he looked to Rat in a slightly more favorable light. His scrawny silhouette backed by the remaining wisps of flame and falling dirt.

 

"Fuck." He mumbled, stunned. "That shit 's good."

 

Little pieces of hot shrapnel peppered down around Rat as he raced out towards the explosion site, kicking at something in the dirt with the point of his peg until it came loose-- just a lump of dirt, from the look of it. But he kicked it closer, too hot to pick up for the time being. He was absolutely bursting with pride at Hog's words, back straightening as his narrow chest puffed out. "Thank you, thank you," he cackled. "Ya know, most around here can't tell a good explosion from a bad one? That shit is good! Good t' see you know the difference."

 

He winked and Roadhog was left impressed. He saw no reason to hide that fact especially if the man ate up the compliment like he was starving which was probably true.

 

"Now just wait til ya see my frag launcher. What about you, though? That hook, I mean. I don't guess that thing's decorative. Too heavy for that shit," he said, creeping closer and rounding around on Hog's side, trying to get a better view of the thing. A little of that hot shrapnel seemed to have caught in the folds of his shorts and in his wild patches of hair, but he didn't seem to mind it. No wonder the little shit was so singed.

 

Raising his arm to expose more of that hook and the roll of chain strapped to his belt, he shifted to hold the cup in one hand as his fingers reached out to flick that sizzling scrap from Rat's head. The last thing he needed was the stench of burnt hair in his shack. With that done he gave a small nod, his hand dropping down to grasp the handle so he could hold it out to the other. The other seemed to have an eye for design so he saw no reason to say no other than he didn't want someone touching his shit, but Rat wasn't even touching. He was just looking.

 

The hook was of course incredibly large. The metal glinting slightly as Hog offered it out to him for a better look, exposing array of nails sticking out at odd ends with the intent of keeping whatever unlucky soul found themself trapped in its maw.

 

Rat was grabby. He honestly was. But being grabby at weapons never landed him in a good spot, and if he did nothing else, the man was damned capable of learning. He didn't even seem to notice the shrapnel being flicked away, he was so engrossed in looking over that hook.

 

He breathed a low, "Ooooh...." as he moved from the tip, to handle, to the long chain mechanism. "...Shite, it's not just like a big scimitar or somethin'? You can actually... Like Hook people? From the looks of the chain and all, right?" He looked up, vivid eyes wide and fascinated. "This thing is a bloody beaut! Did you rig it yourself? How even did ya get the idea?! OR did you steal it? Did ya pull it off onna them, uh..." He gestured wildly, elbow up with his finger hanging, crooked at the end. "Cranes! Did ya take it off a crane?!"

 

"Scrapped bits an pieces. Had help with the design." He grunted, twisting the hook this way and that to give the junker a better look at it before it eventually found its usual home strapped to his belt as he gave a small nod to the man.

 

"I hook 'em." He mimed a gun with the hand currently not grasping at his rapidly cooling tea. "Then kill 'em." It was easier that way. Less energy expended in the long run by bringing people to him rather than trying to chase after someone, a race he knew he would probably lose. He was slow, but strong and he used that to his advantage. Only an idiot wouldn't.

 

On top of everything else, it was absolutely uncanny how much more comfortable Rat really was, just being back outside the shelter of the house. He took a moment to snag his tea, wrapping both hands around the cup to occupy himself, and resist the temptation to reach for the weapon as Roadhog spoke.

 

Hog did not really even blink at the shift in the way Rat carried himself, he just chalked it all up to the other being really fucking weird and left it at that. Watching the man take a sip, he was suddenly reminded that he too had a cuppa one that he could not bare to waste. Sparing junkrat a final glance he turned his attention to his front yard and the small crater where he let out an idle grunt as he pushed the mask up to reveal a wide jaw peppered with what had to be a few days worth of facial hair along with an array of old scars tossed in here and there topped off with the beginning peek of inked lines carved into skin.

 

Bringing the cup to his full but scarred lips, Hog snorted the sound no longer muffled to where his idle amusement was almost lost completely in translation. "Shits cold. 'S your fault." He grunted before taking a long sip.

 

He watched the description with rapt attention, nodding quickly. "...Shite, I'd give my good arm to see that. Must be a hell of a thing, seein' ya in a proper fight, not just a bar brawl. I mean, same for me. Ya should see me fly when it's really time to get bookin'." He grinned wide, teeth just absolutely covered in tea leaves.

 

Gross.

 

He limped to the side a little, propping himself against a support beam to take the weight off his peg. "I gotta..." And his voice trailed immediately as Hog pulled his mask up, curiosity completely transparent as he looked over the bit of face that was visible. He knew mask people. Mask people kept those fuckers on. Goddamn weirdos, in this heat. So he scanned over what he could see, taking it to his spotty memory just in case it was useful.

 

But he scoffed at Hog's words. "Please! Just because I'm so bloody fascinating that you can't pay attention to nothin' else, don't ya go blaming me." He grinned wide, expression dripping in smug.

 

Hog clearly was a lucky man because as soon as he finished draining his cup, he pushed his mask down and caught the sight of those teeth and that wanton curiosity. The combination of which had him rolling his eyes as he matched the other's stance. Wide hip pressed against the support beam as he emptied out the leafy sludge into the dirt.

 

"Fascinatin'? Fuckin' yeah right." He scoffed, taking the moment to look the other over, his gaze lingering on that peg with a decent dose of curiosity. Was it rude to ask about that shit? Yeah it was but that didn't stop Hog at all. "Only thing fascinatin' 's those." He gestured to the prosthetics as he lied. He'd never admit that the man in front of him was a walking curiosity.

 

"You get 'em 'flyin''?" He asked complete with one handed quotes.

 

Junkrat for his part looked horrified at the waste of tea, giving an exasperated sound in his throat. "That was perfectly good! And right in the ground! What'd that tea ever do to you?! Wasteful, mate! Just proper wasteful." He sucked down another loud sip of his own through his teeth. Cold or no, tea was tea. And hell, Australia was fucking hot. Cold was fine. Hog just glanced to the discarded tea leaves and then to Rat and back. He had only tossed out the swill at the bottom of his cup. Unwilling to swallow a mouthful of leaves but whatever.

 

But despite his little tea outcry, Rat perked a little nonetheless at Hog's question. Others might have found it prying, but not him. People had the knack of not getting him goddamn started on his stories, so this? This was a welcome change. "You sure as hell better bet I did! Didja see the disc that went flying over the house? That's my safety disk. Blocks a circle direct on toppa the mine, just baaarely big enough for me to wedge a... me. If ya do it just right, I had this theory that you could stand on top and get blasted up, without getting a speck of shrapnel up ya arse."

 

He paused. "I, uh... didn't get it right the first time." And he wiggled that peg in the air a little, before cackling and crossing it back.

 

Giving a small nod at the question, Hog's eyes peered up at the roof of his house for the moment. Trying to somehow put together a reason as to why any person would willingly jump onto a mine and apparently the answer was to fly. Damn. He kinda wanted to see that too but thought better of asking. He'd hate for the man to die before he got paid. That'd be...well it wouldn't be fuckin' ideal.

 

"Least it was not your ass." He snorted, belly jiggly as he chuckled a little. "Imagine a fuckin' metal ass." He paused before his laughing doubled. "Fully articulate metal ass."

 

Breaking into laughter, Junkrat poked out his butt a little and craning around to give it a gander.

 

"Nope, nope, missed me best quality back there," he cackled. "But if I had a metal arse, let me tell you. It would have a cannon in it." He was apparently just completely delighted with that idea, head tossed back in peals of laugher as he spun off the support beam and wandered across the porch.

 

Hog's chuckling only grew as Rat attempted to make his none existent ass suddenly appear. The junker really had no shame, huh?

 

"A shit scrapper with a canon ass." He chimed in with a snort, not even bothering to watch the man pace across the empty porch. Not much was there save for an old wooden bench that looked fit to fall apart at any second. "Wouldn't need me if you had that." He pointed out.

 

He scraped at the wooden beam idly with a polished thumb, letting out an amused rumble.

 

"Junkass."

 

The gremlin of a man perched very, very carefully on the bench, right over the legs, and prayed it would be sturdy enough there to hold him. And sure enough, it was. A wistful sigh let him, chin dropping onto his palm. "Junkass. Perfect! I'd be unstoppable. If only it'd hit me just a little more directly."

 

Hog tensed. Waiting for the bench to bow beneath the man's weight and the inevitable thump that followed afterwards, however it never came causing him to turn around to for a peek only to see the man perched on that dangerous bench and in no way laying in a crumple mess of splinters. He supposed he should not be surprised. The man looked light enough to throw but then again given his size that was not necessarily noteworthy.

 

The sun was setting out there, and it the temperature would drop along with it soon. It was honestly probably time to go inside. Figure out food. Bed down. Exactly the kind of thing Junkrat didn't want to think about, when he was having such a nice time joking on the porch with his new bodyguard-- A bodyguard he had yet to pay, and that could pretty much crush him the moment he let his guard down, if he felt like it.

 

It seemed like this was going well, but it wasn't something he'd bet on. And he had promised to pay the guy a little at least, for what he'd done today. He shifted, lips twisting to the side, before he thrusted a hand into his pocket and pulled out a few shiny coins. It wasn't much. It really, really wasn't much. Enough to get a couple of good meals maybe, but it was what he had on him. The last scrapping run had been a necessity, and while he found something priceless, he needed something with a price. Priceless didn't keep him going on the day to day, until he figure out what to do with it.

 

Either way, he flipped his hand over, offering out the coins in his palm. "...Said I'd give ya sommin' for today. Know it ain't much, but... more's comin'. I'm good for me word. Just count this as payment on that fact, alright?"

 

Watching Rat dig in his pocket, Hog half expected the man to pull out another explosive to wave around but instead it was a small fistful of coins. It only took a single glance for him to see how much was there and the amount had him opening his mouth only to shut it once the junker began to reassure him that more was on its way.

 

Hmm.

 

He stared down at the junker, not really sure what to make of Junkrat at the end of the day. A liar for sure. A showboat as well. And most definitely the most serious case of mouth diarrhea he had ever seen, however he knew the other had redeeming qualities. He could take a joke. He was obviously capable when it came to his little explosives and the thought of having access to someone with those skills was incredibly appealing. Maybe he could even get a few upgrades for his shotgun while he was at it. All he would have to do was put up with sharing every aspect of his life until the two parted ways. Easy right? Right?

 

After a long tense moment, Hog reached out with an open palm, waiting for the other to deposit the coins any second. "Right. You better be good for it, Rat." He mumbled.

 

A palm flipped to drop the coins into Hog's hand. There. Done, and he took the low amount pretty well. Alright! Alright. Just calm down. He was going to have someone else around for a little while. It'd be fine! It'd be more than fine, it'd be better than before. It'd be safer. You, know, probably.

 

Rat huffed out a breath, just bursting out the question directly. "Ya know, if you're gonna kill me tonight or sommin', I haven't got anything else. Just-- for the record. You're not gonna kill me in my sleep or nothin', right?" He gave a weak laugh, leaning back a little on the bench.

 

"You hired me." Hog reminded as he shoved the coin in his pocket with a grunt. Of course he was not going to murder the man in the middle of the night in his house. That would make a mess and most likely leave a stain and while he did not really give a fuck about the general well-being of his house, he did care about disposing of a body. It was more energy than he was willing to expend. "Nah- And then he immediately was cut off by the sound of creaking wood before the inevitable happened. The scrawny junker's recline was a mistake. SNAP. The bench gave, landing the junker on his ass in a pile of broken boards.

 

The benched bowed under the junker's weight, the rotting board cracking abruptly and splintering around the man as Hog looked down at the pile of junker and wood. He tried not to laugh, really but it was bound to happen no matter how hard he tried to appear stoic and professional.

 

Hog snorted and slapped his knee, laughing hearty at the others predicament all the while not make a move to help the other.

 

A loud snap right after asking if someone was going to kill you was not the best thing in the world to hear, the junker skittering back against the wall once he hit the ground, heart pounding. It just took a second for it to click, and then he was breaking into peals of laughter, too, head tossed back and legs splayed. "Shit, I just about died a fright," he cackled, head hanging between his shaking shoulders before he propped himself up against the wall and pushed upright.

 

"Ya did say no, right? Or was that the bloody murder attempt? Death by arse bruise, falling through an old bench." He rubbed at his hip, pulling a few splinters from the fabric of his shorts. Didn't feel like any were stuck anywhere vital. Those damned shorts were thick and durable, even if they were ugly as hell.

 

Laughing alongside Rat, Hog rested his hands on his belly. Willing the chuckling to stop as best as he could as his boot kicked out to toe the mess of splinters. He had never been attached to the piece of furniture in the first place and while it was something he had plucked from a long abandoned yard, he had never had the balls to actually try it out, so he had to give props to Junkrat.

 

Watching as he stumbled away from the wreckage, he gave a nod. "Said 'No'." He clarified, shoving the broken bits of wood into a pile with a drag of his boot so that he could use them for firewood later. "You promised fifty percent. Won't kill you till I get it."

 

He huffed out a breath, nodding once. "Alright. Alright then, good." He... mostly believed him. Enough to look back to the door, and feel a little better about going in there. "No murderin', then. Shite, it takes sommin' to get used to this, after so long stayin' alive by stayin' alone. I hired you, we got a deal, I got a bodyguard, I got the Queen pissed at me, but it's fine. I'm fine, you're fine, everything is fine!" His arms flailed up at the end, before dropping back to his sides. He was aiming to talk himself into calming down, and despite the perpetually frantic tone of his voice, it actually was working a little.

 

He popped his lips abruptly, shooting Hog a pair of finger guns, and turned to go inside. His voice trailed something singsongy about how fine he was right now.

 

Hog could only follow the other junker with a hefty sigh. "You chose this, not me." He reminded, just to further emphasize the fact that he was, for the most part, an unwilling party in this whole scheme and while he would have ducked out any other time the thought of a priceless score kept him just interested enough to keep him on the line. If it were not for that promise, he would have left Rat as soon as they had exited the gates.

 

Once inside, he shut the door before shifting awkwardly towards the pantry where he kept his food stuffs which was limited to a variety of dried meats and unlabeled bottles. Was he supposed to feed his boss? He was not entirely sure what in the hell he was expected to do here. "I'm your...bodyguard." He started out. "What the fuck does that mean?" He asked, while grabbing one of the metal tins of jerky. "I'm hired to protect you....That it or-?"

 

"I know, and it's a really good thing! It's a really, really good thing that I'm just gonna hafta adjust to. I think, uh... I think I'm gonna need it. The protection, I mean. That's new!" He laughed, hand gripping in his hair a little as he paced the living room. "But yeah. Just protection. That's it. This shit I found, if the queen's onto it... Shit, if she's onto it, it's gonna be a thing. I shouldn'ta run me mouth. Shouldn't a done it, that was a dumb mistake and thaaat," he waved a finger at nothing in particular. "Can't happen anymore."

 

He stopped, whipping around to look to Hog. "How you feel about travel?"

 

Hog spared a look towards Rat as he paced about, slowly popping the tin lid off the container so he could shoved a slice of dried meat beneath the edge of his mask and into his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully as he listened to the man talk to himself. Back and forth until his attention was finally turned to him where he finished chewing the piece of meat before swallowing it thickly. "Don't matter to me." He mumbled with a shrug as he pushed another piece into his mouth. "You're the Boss." And that was true. He truly did not care so long as he was being paid.....eventually.

 

Oooh. Boss. He liked the sound of that. He straightened up a little, grin reigniting. "Alright! Alright, then. We should go, then. Go uh..." His voice trailed, and he waved a hand. "We can figure that out. Map, I need a map. Anyways, I can lay out a minefield in the morning. Try to keep ya place from getting too bothered by the fucks from town. They're gonna come, they saw me leave with you. You!" He pointed to who raised a brow as Rat suddenly addressed him, pausing mid chew to tip his head to the side.

 

"You gather up supplies and shit. And we can hoof it... North. North's good, right? We can pin it down when we get a map. But yeah, we can go at dusk, get some distance in before it's too dark to keep on. Set camp. Wake at first light, walk til the heat gets too much, and... I don't know. How's that sound so far?" he asked, scratching at his jaw as he looked to Hog.

 

Gather supplies? What did he look like? A mule? Taking his time to swallow his mouthful all he could do was shrug. He wasn't paid enough to care what he was doing. "Sounds good, Boss." He offered the tin out to Rat as he tucked another strip beneath his mask. "Pack shit, sleep, and then we head north." It was a simple plan one that left plenty of room for error but in no way were the two of them going to be able to fuck this up.

 

Junkrat beamed. "Well shit, aren't ya agreeable! Perfect then, we got a plan! Now uh... You don't happen to have a map around do ya?" He plopped down in a corner, making no move to eat, himself. Hunger was just about the furthest thought from his mind, amid all this. "I know places so far as about three days' walk outside of Junkertown, but beyond that, it's kinda new turf for me. How far is far enough to be safe for a bit, ya reckon? Just until she cools her damn jets."

 

"Cool her jets? Ain't possible." He mumbled around his mouthful of food, happy to keep the contents of his tin to himself. "She holds grudges." Hog pointed out, moving to sit on his mattress with the squeak of worn out springs. "But she ain't stupid. Anyone she sends after you, I'll put down." He promised with a sigh as he made himself comfortable. "So you want to walk for three days, we walk."

 

The scrawny junker fell silent for an odd moment. He was right. Cooling her jets was not part of her MO, not even a little. This could take a lot longer than three days. He didn't have a damn clue where he'd go, after that. Life could just straight up be real different from here on out, than what it was this morning.

 

Wow, that was overwhelming. So he focused on one thing: Map. He needed to find a map.

 

Giving an exasperated sigh, he groaned and flopped his head back. "Alright. Alright, first stop's gonna be a trade route thing-- We can do some scrappin' on the way, trade up and I"ll get us a proper map. We can get the hell outta here without dyin' in the desert a little easier that way. Just, uh... don't plan on the three day thing. We might need t' play this just a little bit by ear."  
His bodyguard did not seem to really care either way, so long as he was going to be paid and his needs were going to be taken care of which of course they would be or else he would not lift a damn finger to help the rat bastard. That was life and Rat would learn eventually.

 

Dropping the tin container down onto the floor, Roadhog stretched out on the mattress with a comfortable crack of his joints that resulted in him melting against his blankets. Ah. That felt nice. "Whatever you say, Boss." He mumbled, mentally preparing a checklist of items he would gather in the morning so that they could run around in the desert and hopefully not die. Great. He loved excitement.

 

...Well, if nothing else, Roadhog was agreeable. Rat shifted. He didn't trust that. This was going too well. It felt like the other shoe would drop eventually, and he didn't have a damn clue what it would be, quite yet. He watched Roadhog move to the bed and settle in, eyes moving over the room to see just one last time if there was any suitable corner for him to tuck into... and not really. He'd known that.

 

He also knew he was not gonna get a damn wink of sleep tonight, but he'd damn well better try. So with a puff of breath through his teeth, he pushed up, moving to the far end of the room to kinda jam himself in between the wall and an old piece of furniture. It didn't look even close to comfortable, and it wasn't. But fuck it, nothing was, and maybe this would work. So he relaxed back, still sitting up, and tried to will himself into sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story would not have been possible without Sleepwalks!
> 
> Many interactions/mishaps throughout this fic were decided with the use of a D20. All major conversations, events, and progress are true to our rolls.
> 
> Hopefully you enjoy the spontaneity like we do!
> 
> Have any questions? Feel free to hmu on twitter @unglysus

The night had not necessarily been easy on Roadhog. He hardly slept while on the job and he most definitely was on the job...right? The occasional glance at Junkrat's crumpled form in the corner said yes, but starting off on no sleep for what was supposed to be three days in the fucking desert..that would not end well. So eventually he drifted off to sleep with a resounding 'fuck all', because if he woke up with that little bastard on top of him with a knife in his gut, he would just snap the man in half and be done with it.

 

But just like any other day, Hog woke up in the morning with the usual aches and pains with luckily no junker nibbling on his hide. So without paying too much attention to where Rat was, he did as he had been told. Moving about the tiny shack gathering up everything he deemed to be worth lugging across the wastes. Which to his credit was not much but it took a while to collect and pack away, all the while listening to Rat shuffle about outside on a fools errand.

 

At first light, Rat had given up on sleep and moved out to start on the minefield.  He knew damn well that it wouldn't keep the people off this house forever-- but hopefully it would take out the first few hunters who came lurking, until word got around to be careful.  If he could pick off the early comers, then that was all the more time he had to move.

 

Along the way, he snapped up a couple of lizards for his breakfast,  a tiny campfire forged somewhere out in the middle of the half-laid minefield.  Going into the desert on both an empty stomach and no sleep was not smart, and he wasn't stupid.  He couldn't help the sleep thing, but he could help the hunger.

 

So by the time the field was mostly laid and the breakfast was eaten, the sun was fully risen.  And that was when he moved around the back of the shack, aiming to scatter a couple more mines clear of what he planned for their exit path.  

 

That was when he saw it there.  The bike. Just sitting there in all its glory.  His eye shot wide, jaw dropping as he slowly lowered his bag of mines to the ground.  

 

Shit.

 

Whatever thought process was going on inside that singed blonde head, it stopped for a moment as he just charged forward with a breathed, "Ooooooh!"  There was no hesitation. He hopped on, eyes wide as he felt over the lines of the machine. The massive exhaust pipes. The handles and the sloped back of the seat.  Holy fuckin' shit. This thing was a beaut.

 

Between stuffing what little supplies Roadhog kept in his shack into a bag and making sure he triple checked to make sure he had all of his valuables, Hog really did not have time to babysit Rat and figured that if the man somehow managed to be kidnapped from his yard then he probably deserved it. Sure it would have been a waste of time and another droplet to the stain on his name, but Hog was sure he could find another employer if he had to. Probably could within the next three hours if it came to it.

 

Staring down at the split leather bag one more time he counted everything, lost  in thought for a moment until he realized everything was quiet. He held his breath a moment, head turning to face the door as he listened for the shuffling and soft 'thunk' of a mine hitting the dirt but he heard nothing, not a damn thing, and while he had decided that Rat deserved to be kidnapped if he got himself into that situation, the thought of a priceless treasure had Hog grabbing for his hook as he burst out of his screen door.

 

Scanning the yard, he looked for that patchy blonde head between the rows of explosives only to decide nothing seemed out of place. His brow furrowed as he rounded the house, fingers giving the handle of his hook a squeeze as he tensed his arm muscles every so often just in case he needed to put the weapon to use. With nothing amiss on the side of the shack, Hog sighed and was about to assume the man had run off until he saw it. The sudden stop of mines punctuated by that dirty ass sack the junker had been carrying all morning.

 

Kicking up a trail of dust and dirt as he stomped across the yard, Hog paused at the bag and glanced around only for his eyes to land on his shed. The hinges had long since rusted on the doors, forcing them to stay forever propped open, proudly displaying the lost junker groping all over his chopper. To say Hog was instantly steamed was an understatement.

"Oi!" He ground out as he approached, gaze locked on those grubby fingers feeling up his bike. "The fuck you doin'?" Hog was slow to close the distance, but the time it took until he was looming in the doorway only managed to test his temper further.

 

Rat froze as soon as he heard that shout.  ...Uh oh. He straightened, eyes wide as he gripped the handlebars.  "...Nothin!" he shouted back anxiously, hopping up and spinning to put the bike in between him and the oncoming Roadhog.  "Just uh... lookin'! With me hands." He paused. "And arse. This is a fuckin' sweet ride, mate! Have you seen it?! Work of bloody art!"  Please dear god let flattery be a language he spoke. His finger hooked through a hole in the exhaust pipe, unable to keep his hands off the thing even when he was using it as a body block.

 

Hog growled low in his throat, the muscles of his arm tensing as Rat jumped off of the chopper and scurried out of his reach. With the bike between them, he was not going to throw his hook. He was a good shot, but on the off chance he missed or nicked his prized possession...well let's just say he was not willing to risk it. He could wait. He was a patient man after all.

 

"Hands off." He warned, inching closer. The hand currently gripping his hook gave the thing a firm squeeze as those fingers dipped into the pipe. "What's mine, 's mine." Hog stood there, barring the only exit. Knowing that while he wanted nothing more than to snatch the man up and throttle him, making the other sweat it out until he turned himself in was really his only choice.

 

Rat grimaced, skulking back a little.  His hands lifted from the bike, held up and empty as he took his pace back.  "...I didn't hurt it or nothin'! I was just looking! It's yours, I know. I just, uh..."  His voice trailed, eyes flicking past Hog's shadow to the bright sunlight outside. ...Shit, why did he let himself get backed in here like this?  He shifted around the bike's side a little, cautiously trying to feel out which way Hog would go. Come on, Rat. Get him talking. "Just admirin'! Did ya build it?"

 

He almost wanted to laugh at that piss poor excuse. Junkers only ever touched something if they wanted it and the way Rat had helped himself to fondling his chopper was enough indication that given the keys the man would  have tried his damndest to ride it out of there. He knew that and so when Rat began to creep around the side, Hog shifted to fill more of the doorway. A silent message he was sure the other could read clearly enough.

 

"Yes." He hissed out the answer between grit teeth. "And I don't want you fuckin' touchin' it. I should skin you for even lookin'."

 

Junkrat cringed, shifting back a little.  Uh oh. Fuck. "...Lemme out," he grunted, his voice a little huskier than usual.  His frame was crouched, taut, still a good foot back and away from the bike as those wild eyes flicked between Hog and the exit.   The massive junker wasn't wrong though-- If the key had been in there, Rat would be gone, cackling his way across the wastes, on his way to find a new bodyguard.  No goddamn question.

 

Let him out? Now why would Roadhog even consider doing that? Letting the junker limp off without so much as a slap against the wrist for soiling his poor girl with his grubby fingers. No. He had to make him learn from this, but not learn in a way that would fuck up his employment.

 

Hog ground his teeth silently, fingers flexing on that hook. "Come here." He eventually grunted. The sooner they got this over with the better.

 

The scrawny junker just shook his head wildly, crouching a little further.

 

"Rat." He slowly, ever so slowly reattached the hook to his belt as he pointed at the dirt in front of him. "Now. Take your fuckin' punishment. Then you can go." Hog huffed. This shit became less fun the longer it went on for, but this was an important line to draw in the sand and he was going to make Rat learn one way or the other.

 

Rat watched that hook reattach to the belt, some of his bald fear quieting.  He looked to that blank mask, silent for a moment. Running... he did not think would work out.  He was faster, and he could duck through the mines maybe-- Hog didn't know where they all were yet.  He could probably shake him there, if he could just evade the hook.

 

But... then what.  The queen was still after him.

 

He gritted his teeth.  He wasn't often put in a situation like this, where he couldn't just blow his way out, scrap the old plan, and start over.  One booted foot slid forward towards Hog, and he took a single hesitant step closer. "...Ya not gonna kill me," came his voice, the usually thin, high thing coming gravelly and quiet.  "Right?"

 

"No. Still need my share. Fifty fifty." A large hand reached out, waving him closer. "Now c'mere."

 

...Alright.  Alright. It was gonna be fine.  Fifty-fifty. He skulked closer, hesitating for another drawn moment just outside arm's reach, before he slunk into the space indicated.  He crouched there, everything about his posture reading clearly that he was scared half out of his skin. But those odd orangey eyes were locked on Hog's mask, bushy brow furrowed and lips set stubbornly.  He might be terrified, but he wasn't gonna look like a simpering pushover.

 

Hog had to give props where they were due and Rat definitely earned a nod from him once he sidled up to the plate.

 

Reaching out, one of Hog's hands wrapped around the Junker's boney forearm almost carefully. He needed to grab just right to get enough leverage for what was about to come next. "'S gonna hurt." He warned, something that did not need to be said but the anticipation was part of the punishment.

 

There was a tremor in Rat's frame, but... Well, that was not unusual.  It could have been fear or sheer energy. Rat not vibrating at least a little would have been weirder.  The muscle in his jaw twitched, teeth setting and breathing growing quick and shallow as he waited. He honestly was not sure what kind of punishment was gonna come but that train of thought was cut off as Hog moved.

 

Staring right back down into those odd eyes, Hog's fingers squeezed, causing the warm metal of his rings to dig into Rat's flesh as he gave a quick jerk. The force of which popped Junkrat's shoulder out of socket with a disturbing crunch of cartilage. Once that was done he released the man's arm and allowed it to flop hard back down to his side. No permanent damage was done. No risk of infection. But that did not mean it would not hurt like hell. But hey. Punishment was punishment.  "I'll pop it in once you learn your fuckin' lesson. Don't. Touch. My. Stuff. Now go."

 

CRACK.  There it was.  He sucked in a hard breath, eyes shooting wide as he clutched at his shoulder, spinning back and away to crash unceremoniously against the wall of the shack.  A tight, thin growl of pain rose in the back of his throat, wordless and guttural. He fought through the first few seconds, eyes squeezed tightly closed and his fisted hand pressed hard against the worn wood.  Moments ticked by as he struggled to collect himself, before his eyes flared open and he shot Hog a wild, stubborn stare.

 

He shoved off the wall, stalking across to the shack's entry,  eyes locked on Hog all the while. His breath was sucked in unevenly, half from pain and half from knowing how much what he was about to do was going to suck.  The metal of his other hand rattled, hand shaking as he forced it to grip his opposite bicep, bracing the arm in what he hoped would be the proper position. And then he threw himself against the corner of the doorframe.

 

He outright screamed, that time.  But the shoulder snapped back into position, the sound shifting into a ragged yell that sounded suspiciously victorious.

 

Hog was not impressed. He really wasn't, at least that was what he told himself as Rat took his punishment without a single word of complaint. It hurt and of course the man's pain had been evident but it was clear that the scrawny man in front of him could handle a good bit of pain which was...good. It meant less stopping. Less tending to wounds. Less shepherding. All around an easier job for him.

 

Scanning the man's face as he slumped against the wall, Hog kept his eyes on the junker only to jolt the tiniest bit once those eyes popped open again. Last time he checked he had never seen a pair like that, and the way they seemed to burn holes into his mask left Hog with a new predicament on his hand as the Rat passed him. The begrudging flicker of respect that ignited in his chest as Junkrat heaved himself against the doorframe to knock the shoulder back in place himself, caught him off guard. Resetting a shoulder was a difficult thing to do on your own, one he had been subjected to multiple times because of his hook use. And despite still being pissed at Junkrat for feeling up his chopper he could not help the smirk that tugged at the edges of his lips.

 

Okay maybe he was impressed, especially with the fact that the man was able to keep eye contact with him throughout the entire process.

 

He did not say anything after that, offering only a small huff as he turned his back on the other so he could make sure his bike had not been thoroughly sullied.

 

Rat hung there against the doorframe for a moment, just catching his breath and recovering a little.  The pain was definitely better with the shoulder set, but it still felt like unholy hell. He pressed bony fingers over the area to rub it out a little, ginger and cautious with the touch, before he shoved off the wall and stalked off to finish working his minefield.  He didn't toss another look back to Hog. Message received: Do not touch your shit.

 

He hoped his own message had been received clearly, as well.  He was smaller. He was in a bad situation. He'd take his licks where he earned them, but he was not weak.

 

He gave himself a good shake off before he stooped to snatch up his bag.  Alright! Alright. That was done, it was over, and he had a job to do. "Ya been quiet too long," came his sing songy voice as he spun to resume his work on the minefield.  "Been quiet too long, and ya layin' miiiines...."

-

It was a struggle to not roll his eyes as he faintly picked up on the fact that as soon as he was able, Rat was running his mouth again accept this time he had plenty to be thankful for because it was not directed at him. In fact if he focused on the soft pull that sounded from each inhale, he could pretty much tune the man out. Which is what he did upon grabbing one of the torn rags that had been hanging from a rusted nail buried deep into the wall of the shed. Intent of buffing out any and all traces of Rat touching his bike.

 

The process took longer than he thought it was going to, not because there were many nooks and crannies that needed polishing but because after finishing his first round of buffing he opted for another. Just because he could. The squeak of the rag against oiled metal was calming and offered a much needed break from the realities and responsibilities outside of those rotting wood walls. The shed was his solace from the world and now he was going to have to leave it. His hand dropped down on the worn leather seat. The thought of leaving it behind struck a chord with Hog. He hated the idea of some punk ass scrapper running off with years of work and that thought, paired with the anger brought on by said thought, had Hog leaving the shed in search for Rat. He was bringing the chopper with him and he doubted the other man would rally against him.

 

The mine-laying was just as cathartic for Rat.  Planning out the grid with enough offsets to not be totally predictable.  Providing ample coverage, while still leaving an entry and exit route. And the precise art of covering each mine so they looked like undisturbed dust.  He was covered in red by the end of it, but he was done by the time Hog wrapped up with the bike.

 

...That meant he needed to actually return to Hog, and tell him about the path so he didn't accidentally blow his ass up.  He squinted, looking back at the shack. He did not savor the idea. He wasn't afraid of him or some nonsense like that, but there was maybe a little resistance to the thought of just walking right back up to him and chattering away.  Some resistance in the form of a ball of anxiety in his belly.

 

But fuck it!  Fuck it, that was exactly what he'd do.  Show he wasn't shaken. Show that he wasn't intimidated!

 

Yes, yes he was intimidated.

 

BUT HE'D NEVER SHOW IT, he resolved.  And he'd get over it! Oh, he would get over it like hell.  

 

So he took a breath, hunched his best hunch, and skulked back to the damnedable shed.  A little relief washed over him to see Hog had already moving away from the thing-- the most distance he could keep from that bike, the better.  He jogged a few steps to close the distance, already talking by the time he got into hearing distance.

 

"Done!  I'm done.  Minefield is laid, covered, and good to go.  Gotta show ya the safe paths in and out-- got one main entry/exit, and one escape path that's a good deal narrower.  Back shed is totally, uh... I stayed clear. Totally unprotected. People can walk right up, and you can drive right out, if ya stay clear of the yard."

 

The presence of the other junker was wholly unexpected. Roadhog had thought the man would keep his distance and he would have to spend some time looking for him but fortunately he had been wrong about that.

 

Slowing his stride as Rat limped up to him, his head tipped to the side as he listened, eyes scanning the red dirt all over the man before he turned his attention to the yard. He could hardly tell that it was boobytrapped and something about that added a tiny bit of kindle to that respect fire. A tiny speck of fuel.

 

"Paths?" Well...good. That decreased his chances of suddenly finding himself in need of a metal ass.

 

At the mention of the shed, his head swiveled to stare back at it. The chopper well in view of their current position making Hog hold up a large hand in hopes it would stop the other from talking. At least until he could get a word in. "We're takin' it with us." He mumbled, thumb jerking to where the bike was sitting propped on it's stand. It was not a question, or even a suggestion. This was just Hog making Rat well aware that no matter what, the bike was coming with them.

 

And Rat jerked his head back abruptly.  He did stop talking, at least for a moment as he looked from Hog to the shack with a little unconscious step back.  He would have been chomping at the bit at that news this morning, half up Roadhog's ass to leave NOW so he could feel the wind in his hair.

 

But now, he just kind of faltered, and then forged on ahead.  He was nothing if not direct. "But I can't touch that," blurted out, pointing to the shed.

Rat had a point. He had been punished for groping at his things, and Hog dropped his hand down to his side as he turned to stare at the chopper more intently. Running over the options in his head, and boy was there not many of them.

 

"You're right. You can't." He replied with a nod. "Unless we're ridin'." The idea of having the other hang off of him was not an appealing one but he doubted his first thought of having Rat walk would fare any better.

 

...And with that, some of Rat's apprehension melted into sheer, unadulturated excitement.  He'd get to fucking ride?! That familiar grin cracked across his lips, growing wide. "Alright!  Alright then," he cackled, bouncing in place. That jostled his shoulder, and his hand snapped to cradle it, enthusiasm not dulled in the least.  "Don't worry! I got it. No touchin', only ridin' with you. Not fuckin' confused," he assured him, tapping his temple for emphasis. He tried to reign it in for a moment, but he was like a shaken can of soda, about ready to pop.

 

"HOW FAST IS IT?!" he blurted out, skittering around Hog's side, charging towards the shack.  And to his credit, he stopped about twenty feet back, looking over his shoulder expectantly for the other junker to follow and answer a hundred questions.  "When'd you build it?! How long did it take?!!"

 

Hog was not sure what to do with that reaction except feel a tinge of regret at even offering. Hell if he was the quick to flip the switch of his mood, who is to say that he would not have agreed to just walk alongside him?

 

But what was done was done, and now he had a hyperactive junker on his hands that seemed to have completely forgotten about showing him the safe path through the mines in favor of heading right back to the shed most likely so he could hover his grubby fingers over the over-extended forks and seat.

 

Sighing, Hog followed after his employer. Resigning himself to standing in the doorway of the shed so Rat could get his fill of looking at it. "250km but that's pushin' it." He explained, arms folding across his harnessed chest with an almost proud tilt to his head. Of all the things he had ever created with his two hands, this was the one he was most proud of. "Don't like to push her. She's pre-" His hand clenched into a fist before popping open in a demonstration of an explosion. "Her frame is anyway. Took a while." He left that as vague as possible not for secrecy but because back then the days really blurred together, leaving him with no clue how long he worked on her.

 

"Always lookin' for more parts though."And that was the downside. He could not afford to keep the chopper at the farm while he went on jobs which meant riding her back and forth, and while some sand was okay hundreds of miles in the red shit ate up parts faster than he could find them.

 

This had Rat's full attention.  He craned foward, trying to see better, but he wasn't moving from where he parked himself.  He wasn't getting another dislocated shoulder from this today, no thank you. "Two hundred and fifty," he breathed, in open awe.  "What a fuckin' beaut. Still holdin' strong too, if she's that old?" he asked, glancing to Hog.

 

"She's old an’ fussy." Hog readily admitted. Sure his chopper behaved most of the time but if he let her sit for too long of if he rode her too frequently she had the tendency to act up suddenly, leaving Hog with a handful of memories pushing the bike through the sand until he came to the nearest trading post.   Ah. Unpleasant memories.

 

"Wait." Rat stopped, severing the train of thought abruptly.  Parts. Roadhog needed parts? Slowly, slowly that grin widened, and he slung out an arm to sock Hog in the bicep.  His arm had just been dislocated, so that hurt like a bitch, but. "PARTS?! Why-- Ow, ow." He gripped his shoulder, continuing right along.  "Why didn't you say so?! Shit mate, I can get you parts. We can just work it into the route. You'll need ta fuck right off while I do my scrappin', but boo fuckin' hoo, you got a bike to sit on so ya lil legs don't get tired.  Think that'll work for some immediate payment, while we wait on the big payload? Cover my arse by keepin' ya stocked, to keep this girl purrin'?"

 

Too busy staring at his bike to notice that quickly building grin, Hog's head jerked down at the punch. Brows knitting in confusion as he was half tempted to return the favor only for that injured shoulder to do the job for him. Just as he let out the faintest of laughs at Rat's pain, the proposition was offered to him causing the deep rumbling chuckle to halt.

 

Rat had a point. Money was nice, but the shit he needed took ages to find and it was better to cut out the middle man entirely. Less time wasted, more parts, and all he would have to do is sit and wait. Shit sounded too good to be true. "That'll work."

 

His hands slapped into his patchy hair, grinning from ear to ear.  Alright! Alright. He felt infinitely better about this, if he wasn't counting on a bodyguard who would have to be endlessly patient to ever get paid.  He whooped, hopping on that one good leg and turning back to Hog, thrusting out his metallic hand to shake on it. "Then consider it done. Junkrat is at ya damn service.  And I think this here is the beginning of a beautiful friendship." He winked.

 

Watching Rat do some sort of victory dance,  it dawned on him that either Junkrat was not a shit scrapper and believed he was capable of finding bits and pieces for his chopper or he had no clue what he was getting himself into by offering Hog a steady stream of loot. He guessed that either way it didn't matter much. So long as he got what he wanted, he'd be content.

 

Rat's enthusiasm didn't flag, even if it took Hog awhile to return the handshake.  Eyes flicked from his mask to his hand, scooting a little forward to urge him on. There we go big guy!  Shake! Shake!

 

After an awkward moment of staring at that hand, Hog begrudgingly met him halfway. The wide callused expanse of his palm easily engulfed those metal fingers as he gave their hands a pump. He really did not have much to say, but leaving the man's declaration hanging in the air was not completely ideal either so he settled with a grunt. There. That worked.

Rat eagerly pumped that much larger arm a few times before he spun away.  "Alright! Lemme just grab m' shit, and... we're good! You got all packed up?  Got a water pump or sommin? I should really cap up everything I can carry," he said quickly, pacing in place.

 

Running through his mental checklist once more, he gave a confirmatory hum. Shit was packed and ready to go. All he needed to do was snag the bag and they could ride off into the-his heavy boots skidded to a stop.

 

"Rat." He called out, hovering a few feet away as the junker moved ahead. "The path?" There was no way he was going to try and follow Rat blindly through a minefield. No way was that happening.

 

Thankfully the junker skidded to a stop, looking around himself, double checking his surroundings.  OH right. Right. He looked back, breaking into a wide smile. "Of course! Right this, uh... this way!"  He whipped out a stained and battered little notebook-- if each page were laid out, it'd be obvious what it was.  The footprint of Hog's house and the surrounding yard, with little happy faces indicating each mine location. But as it was, spread over the pages still in the notebook, it just looked like a series of lines and doodled smiles.  It looked like damn nonsense, but he seemed to read it without trouble.

 

"Alright!  Path is clear up to... here," he began, stooping to pick up a dried stick to indicate with.  "Begins here, this corner. Got a janky grid so they don't go guessin' once a few blow. Figure they'll be smart enough to see the craters after the first couple pop off.  Uh... Goes that way about ten meters, and then clear round the house..." And he prattled on, flicking that stick around to indicate safe and danger zones.

 

Hog just watched, not in any way picking up what Rat was saying to him. He knew he should be listening. Should be absorbing the information so that he did not accidentally blow himself up but Rat just...he spoke too quickly. Chattering on and moving the stick through the air. Here. Here. Here. And two seconds in Hog was lost.

 

Standing there on the edge of a deathtrap, e reached out to give the man a little shove to the shoulder blades. "Not gonna remember all that." He mumbled, giving another nudge. "I'll follow. You lead."

 

Rat was focused on his gibberish notes, pausing just to look back at Hog to be sure he was following... and that moment, when he was stepping with his peg on the ground and his foot lifted mid-stride, half-craned to see what his companion was up to, that was when the harmless little shove from a giant fell between his shoulder blades.   His peg slipped in the dust as his damned stretched-out, too tall body fell towards a place where he knew good and well there was an active landmine. He was gonna completely bip it. Just face down, right on top of it.

 

Hog had not expected the man to be striding forward at that moment. Unbalanced as he gave a tiny shove only for the man to begin falling forward, and while he had no clue if a mine was truly there, Hog's hand darted out.

 

Fingers curled tight around the worn leather straps to the back of Rat's harness, where he gave a firm tug. Hauling Junkrat back against the swell of his belly rather than letting the man topple to the ground.

 

He kept his grip tight, holding him there until he was sure the junker had stabilized himself properly. "Careful." Hog reminded as if he wasn't the one that just shoved Rat into an explosive to begin with.

 

Rat bounced backwards away from the earth, arms snapping up to protect his face in what would have been a moment too late.  Honestly, he was damn shaken. That was fucking close. He knew firsthand, and uh. First leg, exactly what those mines were capable of.  He did not want to be on the receiving end of one of those blasts ever again.

 

He just kinda hung there for a moment, shaking like a leaf, before he spun around and gave Hog a shove with both hands against his belly.  He didn't imagine that would do a damn thing, and it hurt his shoulder to boot, but he was mad! "DON'T DO THAT T' ME!" he roared out. "We're in a bloody minefield!  There is a MINE THERE! I just said! I could a been blown across the bloody outback and I'm too goddamn pretty for that!" screamed the horrible soot goblin.

 

The shove was barely registered against Hog’s belly, especially after catching a 45kg man against it full force, but he took a step back regardless. Allowing the man more space as he steamed where he stood.

Rat growled, dropping to a low crouch as he propped his elbows on his knees and held his head for a few seconds.  He didn't die. He 100%, absolutely did not die, even if it was close. He was still here. Still here.

 

Roadhog watched Junkrat hiss and spit at him and really he did not blame the junker for that. It made sense, hell he had been ready to skin the man for just touching his bike. He could not imagine what he would do if the places were switched.

 

Shrugging off the man's anger, he mumbled a quick apology despite not feeling like he really owed Rat one. He had saved him, so why did it matter? "Sorry." His nose wrinkled at the pretty comment. He...wasn't too sure about that.

 

He took a shaky breath, glancing up as Hog apologized.  One eye narrowed. He was still pretty rattled, but... hey.  A guy who called him to come to him, to stand and have his shoulder dislocated for touching his bike-- That kinda guy gave him a bit of an authoritarian vibe.  Nothing unusual, out here. But that type was also usually above apologizing. This guy wasn't. That... was okay. One little point to add to the column in Hog's favor.

Hog waited for his punishment to come. For the hunched over Rat currently fisting at his patchy blonde hair to straighten up and lay into him, but he didn't. Nothing happened and Hog was left more confused than he had been when Rat first began rattling off where all the mines were.

  
He huffed, popping back upright and patting over himself, as if he were taking inventory.  "Alright, alright. S'fine. Don't gotta go gushin'," he said dismissively, waving a hand in a wild indication somewhere above his head.  He shifted to get his bearings, the paper of his notebook rattling just a little with the now most definitely increased tremble in his hands.  He ignored it completely, focus on the paper, then out to the field as he resumed his tour. And he kept talking, explaining it. Who the hell cared if Hog wouldn't remember, he liked to talk, and he wanted to do what he wanted right now.  

 

Fortunately, there wasn't much path left.  They hit the house, Rat giving the big guy a last once over before he ducked in to get his things.  "Now. Ya got a water pump or not?!

 

With his brows furrowed beneath his mask, he shook his head at the implication he was 'gushin' because he wasn't. He was just capable of manning up to his mistakes and leaving it at that. Swallowing his pride so that he could be punished and life could fuckin' move forward. And while they were moving forward, stopping next to the porch of the house, Roadhog's frame had slowly begun to tense.

 

He did not like surprises, he really didn't, and the thought that Rat was going to unleash his retribution when he least expected it was not ideal to say the least. Not at all.

 

Following after the man to collect his bag of things, he side eyed Rat the entire time. Watching and waiting for....what exactly? He was not sure but something. Anything. "No." He answered eventually, swinging his pack over his forearm. The poor thing definitely would not fit over the swell of his shoulder so he settled on carrying the thing more like a purse. Such was life.

 

In all honesty, being the one to dole out a punishment to someone who could crush him with one hand-- that thought did not enter Rat's mind.  That was not very survival friendly. He was damned used to getting the raw end of these things, and while he wasn't thrilled about it, it was life.  Know when to throw what weight you got around. Know when to let the bad brush off of you like dust, and when to look for the good in a bad situation.  And if it was real bad? End the situation, once and in complete finality.

 

He never really got to be in a position where he got to have some authority, unless it was moments before there was an explosion and the matter was closed.  

 

But unbeknownst to him, maybe waiting around for a punishment that was not coming, would serve in its own way.  Anticipation was the worst. For now though, he just flipped around in exasperation. "...Well how d'ya drink, then?!  We gotta bottle up, we're gonna be in the desert, mate! Point me to the water!"

 

Roadhog shifted. He was not someone prone to anxiety. No. That had never been him. He was cool under pressure. His lack of caring usually aided in that greatly, but this? He hated knowing that the score was being held over his head. In his experiences punishment was swift and quick. You get it over with so you could go back to whatever it was you were doing before you fucked up.

 

Holding his bag tightly, he stared down at Rat. Expecting him to lash out as he turned around, only to be disappointed once more. Fuck. Come on. "Know a well up north. Can stop and fill up on the way." Besides that all he had to offer the man was the few canteens of water he had left from his last trip for water.

 

He shifted once more the floorboards squeaking as he did so as he tried to find the best way to ask when Rat would make shit even. He was not a subtle man so he immediately came out and said it. "You gon' punish me before we go?"

 

"Well... alright then.  Let's hit the well, get all the water containers we can carry, and..."  He stopped. He blinked rapidly a few times, as the last words sunk in. "I..."  He quieted. He wasn't sure exactly what that question was about, but letting on didn't serve him well.  Did he get to punish him? He didn't wanna just pipe up with a hearty 'Do I look suicidal, ya giant?!' and lose his chance to even the score.  

 

Whoa.  Even the score.  That... was a possibility, for once?  "Iiiii," he drew out, biding his time.  "Yeah. Yeah, think that'd be best. Before we go rather than after."  He gave Hog a sort of sidelong look.

 

...He had no idea what to do.  Punishments from him usually meant the fucker was gonna die.  What could he even do that was equivalent to popping Rat's arm out of socket?  His mind worked.

 

The tense line of Roadhog's shoulders eased as Rat answered his question. It might have seemed masochistic but it was the way his world worked. You give and you get. You fuck up you get got. Everything had a reaction. An effect. A result so that there were no loose ends.

 

"Good." Sighing in relief, he placed his bag on the floor and waited patiently. His anxiousness subsiding now knowing that the score would be evened and they could go about their business.

 

...Huh.  He didn't have a face to read so far as Rat could tell, but that body language said... what, exactly?   Relief? Maybe this was really happening. Maybe this footing was more even than he thought. He'd take and give his licks, and not die in the process.

 

Holy hell, this was new.  It felt strangely... secure, he decided.  So long as he didn't fuck this up. His mind raced back through the punishments he'd experienced himself-- Not a lot of them were careful to avoid permanent damage, to be honest.  He needed his bodyguard fully intact and ready to go. Not worrying about infection or healing. Memories of broken fingers or slow slices across skin... no, none of that would do.  And he couldn't dislocate the guy's arm, when his arm was about the size of Rat's whole body.

 

His brow furrowed with thought, anxiety giving a little climb.  He didn't wanna take too long and seem like he didn't know what he was doing.  And then he looked to that skinny stick he was still clutching in his hands, then to Hog's own gloved hands.  Another memory of stealing from a shop popped into his head, and he had his answer.

 

"Alright!  Gloves off then," he said lightly, pushing confidence into his voice.  "Then hands out, palms up." He stood a little straighter, legs together and the stick held loosely in hand.

 

While Hog was someone who cut an authoritative silhouette, he knew when to listen and it was important for the sake of their continued partnership that he did so here. So without a single noise of complaint, he tugged off his gloves. Tossing the black leather in a pile on the bar so he could offer up his calloused palms for the other. He knew what was coming, and he was ready for it.

 

With his hands splayed he waited for the first blow, wondering idly if maybe he should take off his rings in favor of preventing painful swelling around his rings....Nah. That was part of the punishment after all. "Give it good." He coaxed. He had almost killed the man, so he expected a good thrashing.

 

...Whff.  That little encouragement sent the slightest thrill up his spine.  Okay, alright, being in charge was kind of nice. He could see how this went to people's heads.  But now, he needed to focus. Dole a fair punishment for how close he'd come to meeting a mine face-first, but balance it with the necessity of driving the bike, and not causing any splitting.  Nothing that could be infected.

 

Alright.  Alright, Rat.  Do it.

 

He pulled back, striking down hard with the stick across Hog's palms.  He was careful to avoid his fingers-- didn't want them aching as he gripped the handlebars.  Palms only. CRACK. The first blow fell, the smaller man not holding back in the least. Then Two.  Three. Four. Five, cracking across skin and leaving red welts behind. And then he looked up to Hog, trying to keep any uncertainty from his eyes as he tried to determine if that was enough.

 

The first strike was not too bad. It stung, oh that was a given, but the following strikes all landing in the same place had him gritting his teeth. He had experienced worse. He could handle this easily.

 

However what he could not handle was that Rat stopped just a few swings in. Glancing up from his hands to those unnerving eyes, he jostled his hands a little.

 

"That it?" He asked, tone clearly bewildered as he looked to the throbbing skin of his palms.

 

His answer was the sharp thwack of that stick against his palms. The scraggly bark digging into his skin, in no way cutting into him, but adding an abrasive flavor to the whole ordeal.

 

And CRACK!  Another fell.  Alright, he seemed okay.  Rat tore back into it, brow furrowed as he went on.  Five more and another pause-- but he'd taken the first five so well, he just continued.  Five more. And then he stopped, stepping back and dropping the stick. He was done, regardless this time.  That... felt like the right amount, to him. He was a little breathless, brow furrowed as he looked back up to check him over again.  "So don't fuckin' be that reckless in a minefield again, you got me?"

 

Everytime Rat paused, it made it worse. A moment of calm that gave his mind time to finally register the scorching heat in his hands before he started up once more. Over and over the hits came leaving Hog shaking his hands once Junkrat had his fill.

 

Flexing his fingers as he examined the swollen flesh of his hands, he whistled low through grit teeth. The scrawny thing had an arm on him and that was a good thing. It made the lesson sink in that much faster. Be cautious and no fucking around in the minefield. "Got it." He mumbled with a nod, not bothering with another word as he snatched up his gloves and bag, with a noticeable amount of fumbling, before heading back out of the shack and into the sun.

 

Rat watched him go, back still straight, until the big guy was out of sight.  And then he kinda slumped over into a seat, propping up his head in his hands.  Whoa. That happened. The big guy seriously took his licks as well as he gave them.  His mind couldn't really wrap around looking at those hands, big enough to take his head between them and pop it like an overripe melon, just sitting there and waiting for his strikes.   It was so counter to anything he'd ever dealt with before! And while little in this world could possibly make the man feel comfortable with his new companion so quickly after meeting him, the overall tone of actually being on even footing?  That alone put this miles apart from any other situation he'd been in.

 

He wasn't just scrounging around, waiting for a  swift boot in the arse to send him on his way. And if he could actually throw his weight around a little in their situation, that meant maybe if things went bad, there was room to fix them without resorting to a landmine under the pillowcase.  Give and take. This could work.

 

He took a deep breath and pushed himself upright, looking down at the inconspicuous little stick.  Bending down, he snapped off a piece from the end, tucking it into his pocket. And then he grabbed his bag, crossing it over the strap from his now nearly empty mine satchel, checked his nearly empty canteens, and headed out the door towards the shack.  He ran the last few paces to catch up to Hog, clattering all the way.

 

Fortunately for Rat, Hog did not stray far. He stayed near the side of the shack, waiting for his employer to show up and take the lead because he did not remember where all the mines were nor did he really want to test his luck.

 

Standing there, staring down at his welted palms he sighed and stuffed his gloves into his pocket. There was no use even trying to slip them on what with the current state of his swollen hands, but that did not mean he was angry, no far from it, Hog was quite pleased.

 

He had made a mistake, punishment was doled out, and now they were even; which is just how he liked it.

 

Glancing back over his shoulder, greeting Rat with that expressionless mask, he grunted. "You ready?" There was no mention of what had happened just moments ago. No hostility. Just the usual gruffness that was Hog's signature.

 

And for his part, Rat felt a hell of a lot better about the aching in his own shoulder.  It wasn't unfair bullshit thrown at him, when he hadn't even hurt anything, anymore. Not just another big guy throwing his weight around, and he caught the brunt of it, and he didn't have to stuff it all down to get by, this time.  

 

It was just a reminder of a boundary.  And they both had boundaries, now. That was okay.  

 

He nodded quickly, stepping forward to take the lead.  "Yup! Ready, ready. Follow my lead! This is the back exit route, so don't have to watch too close to the footfalls.  You see me run out any way but this, then you put ya lil toesies exactly where I do, right?" That was assuming they ever came back here.  He frankly wasn't counting on it.

 

With his eyes glued to Rat's steps, Hog followed carefully behind. Movements far slower than they normally would be just because he was aiming to remember this. He didn't want to leave his home for good. Sure all this packing and fussing about made it seem like that was happening, but he was sure in a week or two he would be back.

 

"Got it." He replied, stare fixated intently on that red dirt until they drew closer to the shed. Right. So this was happening. He gave a long glance behind him at the back of his shack. He had spent years here and while it was not necessarily comfortable it was convenient. Hog drew a deep breath before letting it out through his nose. Sleeping in dirt was convenient too.

And now it was Rat's turn to stand back.  He just kinda shuffled over to the corner of the shack, well-behaved as anything.  He grinned, looking from Hog to the bike, to Hog again. He was not touching that thing until Hog was on, and he really really wanted to touch it.  He bounced a little on his toes, rattling his gear incessantly. And then his voice exploded out of him. "Ready? Are we ready? Are we goin' on a ride now?!!"

 

Thankful that the man moved without prodding, Hog rounded around his bike. Checking the tire pressure, the exhausted and finally the suspension as he lifted a leg and settled on down.

 

Wincing as his palms smoothed up the elongated forks to grip the handles, Hog kicked up the stand and gave a nod to his head. Masked face tipped to indicate  behind him. Sure the seat was large but it had been made for him. It was going to be close quarters regardless.

 

"Ready." He steeled himself, ready for the man to burst and launch himself onto the bike any second.

 

He hopped onto the bike without a damn second thought, grunting as he wedged himself between the seat back and Hog.  And quickly, he saw a problem.

 

He couldn't see.  There was a Hog there.  There were other issues, but mainly?  He couldn't see. "Uh... mate? Ya might be able to lean back a little better if I just pop  up there against ya front. Ya try to lean back on ya easy rider here, ya gonna be leaning on a dead rat instead of the nice, cushy seat.  I'm skinny! Ya won't even notice me up there!" he promised. "Cross me heart!"

 

Feeling the stick man slip back against him left a shiver running down his spine. It was the stuff of nightmares for sure, but a necessary thing he would have to put up with. Once they were on the road he would forget all about the sharp pebble he was currently leaning up against.

 

Just as Hog inserted the key, he paused. Head turning to the side as he listened to Rat's proposition and honestly it sounded worse than having him behind his back. At least at his back the wind would carry Junkrat's voice with it and he would be able to ride in silence. Up front that would not be the case. He would have to listen to the man babble all while that boney ass sat in his lap. Not ideal.

 

"...Whatever." He grumbled already reaching back to give Rat a shove indicating that whether he was going to move or stay he needed to do so quickly.

 

He jostled against the shove, but was already cackling and moving.  He wriggled his way free, hopping down and moving to crawl in front of the massive junker, lounging back against his chest instead of being squished behind.  And most importantly, he could see. Could see the dials and the curve of the front wheel, the desert beyond, and would feel the wind in his hair. He was practically vibrating with sheer excitement.  

 

Normally being squashed against another person would not be right on his list of things he was totally great with, but fuck, in this scenario?  He could not care less. He settled, eyes wide and hands gripped against the chassis. The one time he'd get to touch the thing, and he was taking advantage of it!  "Let's go, let's do it, mate! I'm ready! Let's go get some water!"

 

Alright, that was a less climactic battlecry than some.

 

The second Rat had wiggled free, Hog was shifting backwards. Making himself more comfortable while also providing some smudging of room for the other to plop his ass down. Waiting until the man settled, Hog sighed and reached out. Grabbing Junkrat's peg leg so he could move it to press down against the top of his own boot before repeating the action with the junker's other leg. He could see it now. They would take off only for Rat's gangly limbs to get caught on something. He really had no plans on stopping if the man fell off so it was best if he got the other set up properly in the first place.  
  
OH, uh oh.  He would go after the peg leg first.  Rat was just a little protective there, and he wasn't expecting the grab.  He jerked, squirming immediately, and would have tried to wrench free if his leg didn't have such a very short journey to make.  It was placed into proper position and then released, the skinny junker now just kind of awkwardly twisted in his seat for no real reason.  His other leg plopped down where it was supposed to be, and he gave an awkward little laugh as realization set in.  
  
Oh.  His legs were in the way.  That was it. ...Okay, alright then.  He shifted, straightening where he sat.

 

Now with those mismatched limbs out of his way, Hog leaned forward. Reaching down to twist a valve before he gave the accelerator few testing twists before repeating the action. Seemingly satisfied with the result, he thumbed over a switch by the accelerator causing the chopper to roar to life. Something that brought a genuine grin to Hog's face. God damn. He would never grow tired of that.

 

Taking a mere second to rev the engine, Hog cranked the accelerator causing them to shoot forward out of the shed, tires  squealing and spinning in the sand as he took a sharp turn, easily avoiding the minefield as he made a straight path north.

 

Before Rat knew it the bike was thrumming to life, and that straight took his breath away.  His eyes widened and he braced himself a little, before Hog went tearing out of the shed. Voice lifting in a whoop,  he just held on for dear life, his face sheer delight as his dirty hair blew back.

 

Hog had done this a thousand times. Up and down the same stretch of cracked and broken asphalt in a quest to fill up his water supplies. He could even do it with his eyes closed if he really wanted to, but why would he ever want to miss the sights? Flashes of rocks and buildings that seemed to smudge across his vision, smearing into a streak of color as they whipped on by. The usually hot air cooling with the rush of momentum that eased the ache in his palms only further agitated by the vibrations of the chopper.

 

This was the life.

 

His enjoyment in riding even made that boney spine pressed against his tattooed stomach somewhat bearable. But at that thought, he managed to drag his eyes down to that patchy head. It was...odd to be experiencing this with someone in tow. Usually his jobs had him walking with a caravan or traveling solo. There was no need for this and yet sitting on that chopper with Rat squeezed in front of him was definitely something that was currently happening. Something that, to his surprise, was not entirely awful. He chalked that up to his pride for his bike. Long hours scrapping and fixing were finally being recognized in a rowdy 'whoop'.

 

It was beyond a thrill for Rat.  He'd hung onto the sides of trader's vehicles before, or smushed himself into the back of a truck with hired help a few times here and there, and he loved every second of it.  But it was rare enough that his wiry frame was just flat not used to moving this fast, yet. The sensation of speed had not lost an ounce of novelty. He'd honestly be screaming on a trip in a suburban to the ice cream shop, so having this experience slapped to the front of someone, clinging to a massive, roaring bike?

 

He was beside himself.  This was the BEST. FUCKING.  THING. His voice lifted, back arching to push forward a little into the wind, breaking into a wild, cackling laugh.  "HOGGIE, THIS IS THE FUCKING BEST!" he shouted into the wind, resisting the urge to throw up his arms.

 

...He did resist.  For about three seconds.  Then arms were up, and he was held where he was by wind and pressure and dear god, don't let them hit a bump.  "FUCKIN' BRILLIANT!"

 

The arms suddenly tossed up in his face had Hog jerking off course a moment before moving back on track with a disgruntled huff. He should have made him stay in the back. At least there he would not deal with the junker's excited flailing. But to top it all of, there was that nickname again causing a feeling of dread to bloom in his gut. Fuck that. He was not going to live the next few weeks being called 'Hoggie'. No. Definitely not. However at the speed that they were going, Roadhog knew his voice would be lost to the wind seeing as he was not necessarily the loudest fellow.

 

However Hog would be lying if he said he did not appreciate Junkrat's enthusiasm a tiny bit. Riding was better than walking, that was for sure, and he doubted the other had even seen a beauty such as his chopper. Hell no one would ever come close to reach this amount of perfection. He was damn sure about that.

 

The suspension to the bike bounced as they cut off the main road, driving north east into the dirt and gravel as they made their way to a white speck in the distance. Of course Hog had told the truth when he said the well was not far. As they drew closer, and Hog eased up on the gas, it was clear that the place used to be a farm, long since abandoned if the caved in roof of the house was any indication. The siding of the house was completely gone, either weathered away or intentionally stripped, barring the fluffy mold covered insulation to the world as they drove by. Whipping right by the house, Hog maneuvered the bike around the side until they reached a greenhouse bursting with skeletons of dead trees, decaying and shriveled where they once stood proudly, and there in the middle was an old stone well, it's wooden bucket laying at the base  of the stone waiting to be picked up and dipped within the cavern of the well.

 

Rat's skinny arms stayed up for probably longer than they should have, before they dropped and gripped at the chassis again.  He stayed hunched forward for the entirety of the ride though, head craning to look back at Hog as they slowed, grin wide and elated.  "That was fuckin' amazing! I haven't heard a sound like that outside the mech arena, and it's a bloody arena! Anything sounds good in there!"

 

He hopped up to get out of Hog's way, skittering to the side.  The water was forgotten. He was talking about the bike, bouncing on his toes and idly trying to stay out of the way.  "Did ya feel the bounce when we got off the road?! I thought m' stomach was gonna drop through me guts! AHHH it was perfect!  And the wind-- it almost didn't even feel hot! Shit, can we travel in the daytime on this thing?!" he asked, skirting around the bike and crouching to stare at the engine.  He was close, but oooh. He did not touch. He absolutely did not.

 

Roadhog watched the man pop up and wiggle about as he unlatched the kickstand with an almost loving kick of his boot. He sat there a moment, digging through his makeshift purse for his canteens before he decided it was time to get up and get this over with so that they could officially start their way to...wherever Rat wanted to go. Shit. Was he now a chauffeur?

 

Moving out of the way, he looked to Rat's hovering hands before the water from the well began to call to him and with a turn on his heel he was marching to fill up everything he could. Rat wasn't going to touch anything. He was sure of that.

 

"Mhm." He grunted in confirmation as he tossed the bucket down the well, a firm hold on the fraying rope as he waited for it to splash into the water deep below the earth. "Best time to ride is during the day." He explained, brows furrowed as he forced his sore welted palms to grip that rough rope as he started lugging it backup to the surface. "And at night." He paused. "Any time really."

 

Rat hurried over to help, pulling his canteens from his bags. He just tossed them in a pile, climbing onto the lip of the well to watch the bucket rise and wait his turn.

 

And then there was a sharp, only somewhat distant boom. Rat froze, eyes wide. It was a sound he absolutely knew. The mines. There were no hunters here, but dear god, one or two with sense had to be on the move right now. They were just a little behind.

 

His eyes locked on Hog, and he swallowed. “...Biggest container first,” he said low, shifting to find it and hold it still. “We gotta bloody move, Hoggie.”

 

Hog jolted at the sound of the distant explosion, head whipping around to stare in the direction they had just came from as the rope slowly slipped from his numb palms, causing the bucket to inch back down to the water until Rat began speaking, forcing the other junker to look down just in time to squeeze onto the end of that frayed rope.

 

"Shit." He cursed, giving the thing a hard yank as he started the process once more. "Guessin' that was yours?" He eventually asked as the bucket finally reached the top where Hog snatched it up and placed it down on the ledge by the crouching Rat. Taking the time to look hard at the man as he stooped down to snag a container and plunge it into the cool water. "You really got a bounty, huh?"

 

“I don’t know!  It was just a guess. It could be just some more of the Queen’s thugs?  Shite, I don’t know!” His voice was a rapid mumble, eyes focused on the horizon. He pushed to his feet, straightening and shielding his eyes to keep watch. “But that was definitely onna mine. Maybe the fucker was alone.  We could still be fine.”  
  
True it really could have been anything in that moment. Hell even some wayward critter that had gotten far too curious for its own good. That was possible too but Hog had a sneaking suspicion that that was not the case. Rat was right. They had to get the fuck out of there and quick.

 

Rat looked down quickly. “Fuck. Ya hands. Do you need help?” His shoulder wasn’t great, but it at least was a dull ache rather than direct contact of gripping a rope against welts. “Give it here, I’ll trade ya.”

 

Waving him off, Hog huffed a little. A sore shoulder was just going to be agitated by this kind of work plus-"'S my job." He replied quickly, capping the canteen so he could toss it into his bag. "Let me do it." Hog added as he stooped down for another container.

 

“Really?  Hauling water is part of the bodyguard gig?” He said dubiously. But he offered out another container. If he wouldn’t let him do it, he’d at least help. “I’m fast!  Stronger than I look, too. Just pass it off if they start splittin’, can’t risk gettin’ the rot up in there.”

 

"Yep." He replied as he filled one container before passing it to Rat so that he could snag the one offered. "Never said what you wanted me to do." He pointed out, referencing their past discussions where Junkrat had asked if he was a bodyguard or what exactly. Sure he wanted to be protected, that was a given, but was that only if bounty hunters showed up or he got into a scrap? Or was he supposed to do these menial tasks too? He had no fuckin' clue so in went another container where it glugged quietly as it filled with water.

 

“...Bodyguard, then. The rest we uh... we figure out however makes sense.”  He hefted the container, hurrying to the bike to try and find a place to load it up.

 

That answered none of his questions at all but he let Rat go with an idle hum and he finished filling the next container. Setting it back down onto the ground for Rat to scoop up when he was ready, he lowered the bucket down into the water as quickly as he could. A quiet curse hissing out between his teeth at the action. "So... We're headin' north? Where to?" He was the one steering after all and he was not interested in the whole gps styled navigation. Hell maybe he would even know the place.

 

Rat raced back and forth between the bike and the well, loading up carefully.  "Dunno! Might change me plan-- was gonna do a scrappin' stop first, but if they're comin'?  We may wanna just drive. Got a place three days walk from here that's good scrap, and that should be well far enough to lose whoever's on our ass," he said quickly.  "Kinda the uh... Diesel Station area, ya know it? Where the fucker with the gas tankers squats?"

 

"Heard of it." He replied, lifting the bucket onto the lip of the well to fill the remaining containers. "Shouldn't take us long." A three days walk was going to be nothing on his chopper but, heading directly to the next hub was not the smartest idea either. The last canteen was capped firmly. "Got a place to lay low there?" He asked, walking over to the bike where he started stuffing the containers into his backpack purse.

 

"...Nope.  Got a place to scrap that's off a bit, though.  Figure you can just dump me in the desert, go kill time and the Station, then come back and get me in a few hours."  He shoved a canteen into his bag, clipping another to his belt. "Will get us money to push on, with any luck. If m' traders are still camped up round there.  It's far, I don't get t' make the trip as often as some." Rat moved to secure the larger containers as best as he could, before straightening to check the horizon.

 

Hog instantly reached out to tug on the larger containers experimentally before nodding with satisfaction. Nice and solid so long as he swerved around any potholes they come across. "You sure that's safe?" He asked, already sitting back down on the chopper and making himself comfortable so Rat could hop on. "Not much of a bodyguard if I ain't even watchin' you."

 

He gave a tight, thin sound, crawling back into his position against Hog's belly.  "Fuck me, I don't know. Not givin' up me scrapping spots, but I didn't think they'd be on me so fast.  Maybe not even at all. We gotta find out if there's actually a bounty. That will help answer exactly how much shit I'm in and how many risks we can take."

 

"Doesn't matter how much. People die over stupid shit all the time." Hog set about starting the chopper up but this time he did not peel off, he sat there a moment. Squinting hard in the direction of his shack. "Fuck." He mumbled under his breath, the word practically lost in the roar of the engine as he cranked the accelerator, causing the wheels to kick up a cloud of dust as they started on their way.

 

“Fuck?!  What’s fuck?  What did you see?” Rat shouted out, craning to try and look. But he was sitting in front now. The completely blocked view was now behind him. So all he saw was tiddy.

 

He straightened, brow furrowed as he hurriedly shifted to plant his legs where they belonged over Hog’s own, trying to at least not get them killed due to a tangle of limbs. “Are they comin’?  Is sommin there?!”

 

Roadhog huffed as Rat wiggled around, trying to peek around him to no avail. "No. Nothin' 's there. Just...fuck, you know?" He explained though honestly he doubted the man could hear him over the rumble of the engine as they circled around the dilapidated property and back onto the road.

 

Aaand Rat couldn’t hear shit. But the guy was freaking out a bit, thinking someone was about to drive up their asses, so he just shoved his ear directly against the snout of the mask.  “Whaaat?!” Rat shouted out.

 

Roadhog’s head jerked back at the action, causing him to swerve and hit a pothole. The suspension of the chopper bouncing roughly and loosening the ties on the containers but nothing fell, not yet anyway.

 

Growling low in his throat, he reached out with a hand to push Rat's noggin down, clearing his field of vision from that thin mop of patchy hair. "I said no! Ain't shit there. Was just-" And there a container went, bouncing off the asphalt with a hollow thump that had Hog craning his head back to see as the contents splashed across the road. "Shit!" He hissed, squeezing the brake as his boot hit concrete to hasten their halt. "Fuckin' shit." He didn't turn off the bike, instead allowing it to idle as he kicked the stand down and stood up to refasten the wraps, leaving Rat sitting on the bike by himself. No use in going back for the one they had lost. It would be a waste of time.

 

Rat’s eyes went wide.  Oh. Oh fuck. He made him but a pothole. And then he heard the container fall with a splash— Shit!   Shit shit shit. He slid down a little and was very, very still. The bike stopped, Hog got up, and he pushed to follow, checking over straps on the opposite side. “Sorry,” he said low, usually wild voice tamed down the a mumble. “I’ll. I’ll ah. I’ll be still.” He knew he fucked up. Water— and water containers both. They could be the difference between life and death out there.  And now they were down one.

 

Hog refused to look at Rat as he popped off the bike and moved to help him secure the tank properly this time. Making sure the cords were wrapped tight around the sole source of water they had. Minus the small canteens of course but those would go quickly. They always did.

 

Without a single word he gave a firm tug to the container and when it hardly moved he shuffled over to sit back down on the bike. Nothing was said. Nothing really needed to be said. Sure Rat was the one that originally secured them but Hog had checked them too so he was partially to blame. He had no right to kick up a fuss over it. So he didn't.

 

He just situated himself without a word and waited for the junker to climb back on.

 

...Ohhh shit.  This guy was quiet anyway, but silence after a fuckup was never, never good.  He hesitated just a little. What if this was the last straw? A fuckup at the house, and then this, that could kill them if they didn't get to water fast enough, out there?  And Rat had a possible bounty on him. What if he decided to just take him in? He stared at Hog for a moment as he climbed onto the bike, jaw working.

 

But he climbed on.  He'd just have to take the chance.  He was sure some kind of punishment would come, but for now they were in a rush.  Hesitate, and that was a risk in and of itself. "I'll be still, mate," he promised again, looking back at him briefly before he situated his legs and gripped against the chassis. And then he bit his lip and hushed up.  He really didn't think now was the time for his incessant chattering, no matter how his anxiety was spiking.

 

Unfortunately, that meant he was a little less than still.

 

Hog really did not think they had time to address what had happened what with that explosion they had heard in the distance, not far from where they were meaning that someone had been snooping around his shack most likely for Rat. He never had any visitors so that had to be it.

 

Sure the water thing was bad and was the cause of many deaths out in the desert, but he had no plans on dying just because he did not drink enough water. No. Fuck that. He would do what he needed to in order to get them water, and what with their destination only three days away by foot, and far less by bike, Hog was sure they could replace the container and its contents there. He would not even care if it was overpriced.

 

A look down at Rat's uneasy posture left Hog sighing. Long and heavy as he stared down at the man, fingers gripping the accelerator idly. "We both fucked up." He mumbled, voice raised slightly over the rumbling engine. "Gon' have to talk about that. Later." And before he could either make sure the junker had heard him or allowed for the man to reply, Hog was cranking the accelerator for all it was worth to make up for lost time.

 

Junkrat could only nod a few times.  He heard, he understood. And then he was shoved back against the other Junker by pure acceleration, and his eyes slid closed to just savor that.  

 

He was sure things would come to a head later.  But now, there was no time for it. Now there was just speed and wind and dust, and that was such an overwhelming thing, that it quieted the other thoughts.  His fidgeting stilled and his eyes cracked back open to watch the landscape race past. He'd be an uneventful passenger now, and that was just about the best thing he could do.

 

While the change in the man's disposition had been clear before they rocketed off down the road, it was even more obvious that something was wrong now. Gone was the whooping. The loud excitement that manifested itself in jitters that Hog could feel against his belly as the junker twitched in his seat. However now there was barely any reaction from the man and that had Hog feeling some type of way, feeling off, but he had no time to really ponder over the whole thing because just as Hog went to crest over a hill, they came face to face with a battered truck blocking the road.

 

The sight was almost humorous to Hog. All this wide open space and they thought a small barricade would stop them. Yes it would have been funny if it had failed, but sure enough Hog slowed to a stop. Heavy boots scrapping cracked asphalt as they skidded to a halt.

 

"We keep goin' they're gon' follow." He mumbled, mask tucking down to feed the words into Rat's ear. An action that hid the fact he was now gripping his hook tightly, forcing his raw palms to wrap firmly around the handle despite the throbbing.

 

Once their two man caravan stopped, Hog kicked the stand down to help them balance as they sat there, three grubby men jumped up and around the back of the truck with a noticeable amount of awkwardness. They had to be new hunters, straight out of some piss filled ditch, and the thought had a chuckle slipping out of Hog. "Fresh meat."

 

"Oi!" One called, the leader most likely if the V formation said anything. "Ya hand over that fucker and we won't fill ya with holes. Promise we won't." The safety was flicked off causing Hog's form to tuck down against Rat's back, shielding him as best as he could without really seeming to do so.

 

Rat grimaced as he saw the barrier, frame stiffening against Hog's belly.  He assumed they'd go around. Assumed they'd do pretty much anything but what they did.  Panic leapt into his throat as the bike slowed, and he shrunk back. Fuck. Fuck. He was gonna hand him over.  He knew it. He shouldn't have even gotten back on. His mind snapped over the possibilities, hand shoving into his pocket to retrieve the familiar round shape of one of his grenades.  A dirty finger hovered over the detonator as he sucked in a breath, trying to decide how to do the most survivable damage.

 

And then that mask pressed to his ear, and he heard him.  His finger slid away from the detonator, a suspicious look cut back to that blank mask briefly, before his attention focused on the trio.  "Fuck off!" he shouted out, voice sharp. "The hell ya want the big guy for anyway?! Don't think I'll hand him over today. Nah, makes a good seat back."  And he lifted his free hand to toss them an emphatic bird. It was a good show, but he was shaking like a leaf where he sat. He'd 100% claim it was just surging adrenaline, and he might even be right.  Mostly.

 

Rat's comment about Hog seemed to disorient the hunters. Catching them off guard and causing the leader to glance to the two of them and back. "Get that fuckin'-" And he did not even have to finish his sentence before a wadded up paper was shoved to his chest. Unfolding it, he glanced down to the picture and then back to the duo. "Pretty sure this is ya ugly mug." He tapped a dirt covered finger against the crude scribble of what had to be a goblin. "We don't want fatty. Ya the one we're lookin' for."

 

Hog huffed behind Rat, eyes rolling. He waited until the hunter was blabbering about something else before he jostled Rat a little, voice low. "Kinda wanna see your mine in action, Boss."

 

Great minds really thought the same because Rat was already climbing. He whipped a mine out of his side satchel, slinging it towards the trio like a frisbee. The detonator came up in his other hand, and he punched the button right as it slung towards the face of the man on the leftmost if the group.

 

BOOM. It popped, the explosion sending fire and shrapnel across the group. Lefty caught the brunt, but the center was little better. And the rightmost, in some grim twist of luck, managed to be blocked from the blast by the shapes of his friends.

 

Rat was himself again. He propped his peg leg up on the front of the bike, standing and cackling wildly, arms lifted against the bloom of fire in front of him. “FUCK YES!”

 

Roadhog did not even have time to react before Rat had sprung up and launched a mine straight into the group and while the man was definitely scrawny, Hog shifted to the side a little for a better view as the detonator was pressed and suddenly they had fewer problems to worry about.

 

The burst of flame and shrapnel had obviously taken its toll, the leftmost hunter wobbled to the floor, soot and blood staining his frantically grasping hands as he screamed in terror or in pain, Hog was not entirely sure which but it was most likely both. The wails of their companion had the singed leader shaking where he stood. Shock of seeing his friend practically blown to smithereens had left his hand twitching, inadvertently firing his gun at the duo as he scrambled back to press up against the rusted grate of the truck. Thankfully the bullets missed, dive bombing into the concrete as his unsteady hand  dropped the gun all together.

 

The one on the right however had maintained his cool. Seemingly unbothered by Rat's display as he took that as a sign to go all out. The bounty never said Rat was to be left unharmed after all. Reaching out, he ripped up the 'leader's' sniveling body and used the still alive man as a shield as he inched closer.

 

"Come on. We don't have time for this. Stop being a scared little bit-" And he was effectively cut off as Roadhog's arm shot out right next to Rat's left side, the force of which left the metal of his hook singing through the air....only the impact never came.

 

Rat just laughed harder when he realized the guy was using his friend as a shield.  He thrusted out a finger, waggling it at the pair. "Terrible! Terrible. Shoulda chose ya crew better, mate!"  His heart was pounding, victory already clenched somewhere behind his teeth as Hog's hook went out, elated to finally see it in action.  And... it never reached the guy.

 

Just as Hog tossed the hook the man had fired his gun, sinking a few bullets into the muscle of Hog's arm and causing him to reflexively jerk the hook back, sending it skittering back against the broken road as he hissed out. "Shit." He ground out between his teeth, the words practically going unnoticed as the bounty hunter gestured to Rat. "Serves you lot right. Now come on. I won't hurt you." The dirt covered man took another few steps closer with a wicked grin, delighting in the blood oozing down Roadhog's arm as he applied pressure to the wounds.

 

...Wow. That-- that was underwhelming.  He looked back to the man, brow furrowing as he realized the bullets had hit home.  He held there for a moment, expression just kind of mildly puzzled, before his brow furrowed and his teeth gritted, lip curling.  His head snapped to look back towards the man with the human shield, snatching up his frag gun. He jumped from the bike, skittering to the side a few steps so Hog wouldn't take any bullets that whizzed past his skinny body.

 

Raising the gun, he fired off two grenades as he charged forward, voice lifted in a wild cry.

-

God Roadhog felt like a punching bag today, first the ordeal with the minefield and now this. He pushed hard on his arm, effectively shoving the bullets deeper into the muscle in favor of lessening the flow of blood as he glanced up at the scene around him only for Rat to no longer be perched on the front of his chopper. Gone was his tire ornament and the realization of that had a sickening effect on his gut. Shit. He had gone and fucked up agai-then he heard him.

 

Head whipping around to watch the man charge forward and fire off-wait what? He stood slightly as the brightly colored grenades the junker had shown him earlier bounced against the ground before knocking up to hit their targets with a loud bang that left his ears ringing from even this distance.

 

The explosion had completely shredded the man that had been cockily approaching them. Bits of gore and burnt armor speckled the surrounding area as he fell to earth revealing that the other man who had taken up employment as a human shield had been tossed away to the ground where he sat pale and in shock. Covered in the gore of not one, but two companions.

 

Hog blinked at the scene, his hand wrapped tight around his own bicep as he turned to look at Junkrat. Well shit. Who was protecting who again?

Rat continued his mad charge, screaming as he closed the distance between himself and the meatshield. He stabbed his peg leg down against the wrist of his gun hand, panting as he stared down at him, wild-eyed. The frag gun pointed into his face, and Rat shouted out his order. “TELL ME HOW MUCH I’M FUCKIN’ WORTH!”

 

He was way too caught up in the moment to notice much else or look back to check on Hog, the whole of his attention honed on the man crumpled beneath him.

 

Watching the frenzied junker approach him, the sniveling meat shield screamed out as that peg pinned his hand down against the road. "P-p-please! Don't kill me. I'll tell ya! I'll tell ya I swears!" He replied rapidly between the tears streaking his blood and soot speckled face. "Q-Queen doublin' the bounty everyday. It..It was 500 yesterday. I coulda lived offa that for a year."

 

And while this was going on, Roadhog got up off of his bike and stooped down to retrieve his hook where he fumbled to latch it back on his belt with wet fingers. Doubling a bounty? He had never heard of a thing before but that meant that while the eager start ups would be after them in the beginning it was only going to get harder from here on out. Great.

 

Rat was speechless for the briefest moment, eyes widening.  He looked to Hog in silence, a spike of fear hitting him. That fucker was gonna turn him in once it got high enough.  He was sure of it. Absolutely sure. He looked back down to the battered man beneath him, gritting his teeth before he hauled back with his peg and kicked him hard across the face.  Stooping to grab his gun, he skittered back. "If ya fuckin' survive this-- get ya ass back to the Queen. Tell her she's a cheap fuckhead and she ain't askin' nearly enough for Jamison fuckin' Fawkes."  He clenched the gun in his hand so hard his knuckles went white, before he turned to run back to the bike.

 

He leapt on with a grunt, squirming to get into place.  "Punch it, mate. We can patch ya up once we're clear." Whatever fears he may have... He needed the fucker for now.

 

The man screamed in pain, falling over to writhe on the ground as Rat stole his gun and stomped back to the bike. And Roadhog watched it all for a moment. The tense line of his shoulders, the tight grip. The little bastard was dangerous that was for sure, and he had taken care of the hunters on his own. So why exactly did he need him again? Because he threw a guy out of the bar? Hog wasn't really sure but he settled back on the bike anyway.

 

"Yeah yeah." Shifting to kick up the stand, Roadhog's gripped the handles and gave the accelerator a good twist. One that snapped back as his hand slipped. Grunting under his breath, he rubbed his bloody palm across the thigh of his pants before trying again, this time though the chopper moved much slower. Maneuvering around the bodies and the old beatdown truck with care as he looked the vehicle over. He wanted to prod Rat into scrapping it. Taking what they could but from the looks of it the thing had most likely died on the side of the road and the hunters just came across it. Pushing it into the street as a way of using what they had available at the moment. It was probably stripped of anything valuable anyway...

 

Rat himself would probably be kicking his own ass later for not even thinking of the scrap, but right now, his mind was humming with the fact that his bounty was that bad.  Doubling every fucking day? Things were going to get so much worse. He was still gripping both guns, the frag launcher and the stolen one, like his life depended on it, just held where he sat by the force of their velocity.  

 

This was bad.  This was really, really bad.  He was gonna need Hog for the long-term, it looked like, or until they found a way beyond the Queen's reach once and for all.  Shit, would he even be safe doing his scrap hocking? Had word gotten out that far? And the big guy was shot now, bleeding. What if it hit something important, and the fucker just died there behind him?  He could handle this alone so far, but that would not last.

 

...Shit.  Someone would pay that kinda money for little ol' him.  He was dimly flattered, behind the wall of adrenaline. "If ya arm's real bad, nudge me twice.  If ya good to get somewhere safer, nudge me once," he shouted into the wind. He'd definitely learned his lesson about trying to hear the man's quiet growl of a voice in the wind.

 

Roadhog kept his grip tight on the handlebars. Focusing on the pain in his hands rather than the sharp stinging bloom in his bicep that now seemed happy to drip down Hog's side and stain his pants. It really was not that bad. Really. Had he been half his size it would have been more of a current concern, but he could push through the pain. At least until the adrenaline wore off and they got somewhere safe. He spared a glance to the three deep punctures. Holes far too small for him to try and wiggle a finger into that was for sure. Well shit.

 

He had been lost in thought when Rat began to speak up over the rush of wind. Tucking his head down, he almost felt offended by the question. Him? Need to stop? He gave Rat a single nudge with his arm, not even noticing that by doing so he smeared his rapidly drying blood down Rat's shoulder. What the man take him for? A softie?

 

Rat immediately grimaced at the wet nudge of a reply, looking over at the wounds.  Shifting where he sat, he pulled his satchel up to his mouth, biting the flap over the top of it and jerking his head hard to start a tear in the fabric.  He yanked the strip with his hand to pull a scrap of cloth free, folding it and twisting to face Hog's arm a little better. He pressed it over the wounds, gripping against his bicep to hold on that way instead of gripping the bike's frame.   Hog didn't have free hands, but he did. The big guy wasn't gonna bleed out while he was driving him around, no thank you.

 

At first Hog had just assumed Junkrat was showing off some more of his unique quirks. Nibbling on clothing just like his namesake, but once he saw the man ripping the fabric rather than chewing on it he was thoroughly stumped. But hey. It wasn't his problem..

 

Making sure to keep his gaze on the road ahead of them so that they did not hit another pothole and lose their last bit of water, Roadhog's arms tensed up the moment the fabric came into contact with him. In fact his entire frame tensed up as Rat went about applying pressure to the wounds, something that while painful would stop him from leaving a trail for another bastard to follow.  

 

And while the action was appreciated, holy hell did Hog appreciate it, no matter what he doubted it would stop the steady trickle of blood. The vibrations of the bike were continually agitating the wounds, never quite allowing for the blood to clot and scab properly as it slowly colored that scrap of cloth.

 

Rat just held on, content to grip the fabric to the wound until the bike stopped. But as the fabric slowly but surely soaked through, he started eyeing Hog. He... knew the blood wasn’t stopping, right? He’d stop before he got dizzy, right?

 

“How ya holdin’ up there, Hoggo?” he shouted into the wind. “If ya pass out and kill me, I’ll haunt ya ass!”

 

Hog was determined to get where they were going first. He could ignore the pain searing through his muscles at the continued vibrations. Could ignore the itch of drying blood along his arm and side. Hell he could even ignore the cold sweat that had suddenly begun to prickle along the back of his neck. But what he could not ignore was the sudden swim of his vision as his arm went numb.

 

His eyes were locked on the road ahead of them one moment and then the next there were...two? His eyes narrowed, fully aware that wasn't possible and yet there it was. He glanced down to his left hand, unable to feel it even as it gripped the handle hard, and took a deep breath. No freaking out. No worrying. Shit like this was bound to happen eventually, he just figured he would die in a more gratifying way.

 

So he did the only thing he could think of, he willed his trembling numb hand to grab for one of Rat's, tugging it away from his wounds in favor of placing it on the recently vacated handlebar, specifically over the clutch. He still had one hand on the bars keeping the bike as steady as he could, but there was no way he could squeeze the break when he was unable to feel his fingers.

 

Rat’s brow furrowed, a spike of nerves hitting him between the shoulder blades. He wasn’t sure exactly what was so off, until he felt that trembling hand over his own. Shaking like a leaf was his job, not Hogs. Oh no. This wasn’t good.

 

It only got worse as his blood-slicked fingers gripped the clutch. He wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t bad. And Rat?  He’d never been on a chopper, let alone driven one. He had no idea what to do. So he just gripped tight, dropping his cloth to turn and try to grip both handlebars as best he could with Hog’s hand covering one.  

 

All he was aiming for was to stay straight. He gripped tight, and hoped that was the right thing to do. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” he whispered, his single foot pushing down over Hog’s boot.

 

Now with Rat gripping the handlebars, Hog could rest a little easier. At least now he knew he was not going to be the one that crashed them into a rock or boulder. That sure would be a shitty way to go.

 

Keeping his hand over Rat's, he did his best to still his subconscious trembling for the sake of showing Rat what to do; which was a difficult task one handed. Fingers pushed and pulled until Junkrat's fingers fell into the groves that his own digits had left over decades of use. He pushed the hand resting on the accelerator, forcing them to speed up before he let go of it and they slowed to their maintained speed once more.

 

Lastly was the break.

 

Unable to really reach the left handle what with that arm currently out of commission, Hog carefully let go of the handlebar with his right hand. Forcing Rat to steer on his own as he gestured to the silver trigger jutting out. He made a a squeezing motion to it, hoping Rat would pick up what he was trying to say through his trembling hand movements.

 

With that done, Roadhog's head dropped forward, his sweat slick forehead pressing to the top of Rat's shoulder as he focused on his breathing. Forcing himself to take deep inhales in order to stave off going into shock. If that happened, he'd be fucked. So his best course of action here was to stay calm and believe that Junkrat could drive in a straight line.

 

Rat watched every motion with wide eyes, drinking it in as best as he could. He was good with machines, he really was, but this?  This thing was almost a creature in and of itself. His heart pounded.

 

He could handle this. He had to. His jaw set, back hunching toward as he squared himself, eyes on the road as Hogs hand fell away. There was a little swerve of adjustment, and he corrected sloppily before the tires straightened.  

 

He was tempted to grab the brake immediately, but.. first. Somewhere safe. His eyes scanned the horizon, looking for something, anything that could provide adequate cover to keep the next hunter from sniping them from across the flats.

 

There was fucking nothing. Nothing at all. The sun would be beating down on them soon, and there wasn’t a speck of shade, either.

 

So he just peeled off road, riding a ways across the bleak red expanse, and did his damnedest to be careful with the brake.

 

It was. The most perfect stop anyone had ever performed. They barely even jostled, easing to a gentle stop with hardly a cloud of dust kicked up around them. He struggled with the kickstand a little with his peg, but he got it down, immediately rounding to try and brace Hog in place. “Oy!  Oy, big guy. Imma need ya to stay here with me, got it? Gimme a nod, mate.”

 

Hog barely registered that they had even stopped because of the incredibly smooth brake Rat had managed to somehow pull off and while any other time he would have maybe praised the man, in his current state he could not find the energy to do much of anything besides nod.

 

Forcing his eyes open to look around them, Hog let out a slow and even breath. Of course there was no shelter. He had expected as much out in the middle of nowhere. The only solace he really had was that he figured they were far enough from the road to not be spotted. Good. He didn't like the thought of rotting on the side of the street for all to see. At least here he could crumble to dust quietly.

 

He mumbled something under his breath for a moment before clearing his throat and trying again. "Rat-" The others name coming out more like a pained sigh. "Get 'em out." With his chin jerking down to his arm, Roadhog indicated the bullet wounds. He didn't care if it was going to hurt or not, he'd bite clean through his tongue if it meant the metal would stop working its way deeper into his tissue.

 

And Rat swallowed.  
  
Yep. Yep, he was gonna have to do that.  He could handle it, really. God knew he was no stranger to injuries. He’d patched plenty of his own wounds, but one thing he never had been, was shot.

 

He looked over Hog there. The bodyguard he was so sure would hand him over eventually. A promise of possible eventual riches was nothing compared to real riches right now, even if the man didn’t care for bounty hunters. Everyone had a price for when they’d decide to do something unsavory.

 

He could just push him off the bike to die, and go.  But he really believed he could not do this alone. So he swallowed. He braced himself. And he muttered “Don’t fuckin’ bite your tongue off in that mask.”

 

And then he just jabbed his finger into a wound, crooking the knuckle to hook the bullet and work it out. It was slower than anyone would have wanted... but it popped out, into the dust.

 

Just one more.

 

Preparing for what was about to happen next was an impossible feat. You could not just steel yourself for bullet hole prodding. It was something that happened whether you wanted it to or not and surprisingly Hog was the former. If the casings stayed lodged in his arm then he would either die of an infection or find his range of motion in his left arm incredibly limited and what with his chosen profession that was a no go.

 

Staring down at his arm, Hog did his best to hold still as Junkrat's fingers brushed over one of the wounds before a digit dipped in drawing a sharp inhale as his flesh stretched and tore at the additional invasion. Unable to tear his swimming gaze from Rat's blood soaked finger, Roadhog's breath started to come out harder than before. Each ragged pull agitating his lungs until he went silent as the first bullet popped out.

 

The pain was not sharp like a needle or a knife, it burnt. Deep around the muscles within his arm like boiling water, scalding everything it touched until even the barest hint of a breeze had him fisting at the thighs of his pants where his grip became white knuckled, accompanied by what sounded like ripping stitches and Hog's breathless voice. "Fuckin' shit." He growled, the cold sweat along his clammy skin refusing to subside as another problem arose.

 

While incredibly painful, the shrapnel had acted as a cork to the deep holes in Hog's bicep and now that the 'cork' was no longer there to keep majority of the blood at bay, the steady trickle increased. Not only making it difficult to see the other bullet hole, but causing Roadhog's head to duck down in exhaustion. He could feel the beginnings of heat along his back as the sun began to make its way up into the sky meaning that not only was he going to bleed to death, but he would be cooked while doing so. His eyes shut tightly as he stifled a pained groan.

 

Rat shoved his torn scrap of cloth against the increased flow of blood, looking to that sagged masked head with a flare of worry.  He held fast to the bloodsoaked scrap with one hand, the other reaching out to grab Hog by the mask, giving his head a short, rough little shake.  He leaned in a little, a mix of fear and stubbornness in his eyes. "HEY. Stay with me, fuckhead. You bloody stay with me. We got a plan mate, and you dyin' out here ain't part of it.  Stay. Awake. Droppin' out is how it starts, and ya don't get to let it start. You hear me?"

 

He dropped his mask, leaving a slick of blood on the dark material, before he gingerly lifted the scrap of cloth to check the wound.  Blood pooled up, immediately flooding both holes again. Fuck. This was going to be harder. "....Deep breath, mate," he mumbled, before he pressed the cloth over the wound with one hand, the other feeling for the position of the hole.  His fingertip dipped in, and he could feel it there, hard against his fingertip. He repeated the crooked motion to fish it out... but nothing came out. It slipped past his finger, lodged in flesh. He cursed and tried again, but nothing.  Jerking his hand back, he reapplied pressure, the sweat along his back and neck feeling cold.

 

Shit.  Shitshitshit.  What if he couldn't get it?  What if he just couldn't? "Didn't-- didn't get it, Hog.  We're gonna have to do it again," he said rapidly, voice husky and tight with anxiety.  That tremor was back in his fingers now, panic beginning to settle in.

 

God was he tired.

 

The heavy weight of his eyelids the only thing on his mind as the pain sung a sweet lullaby to him. Lulling his eyes to slow with every passing blink. Until just as he was about to drift of the sudden shake startled him out of it.

 

"Push off." He grunted, annoyed that the other would not let him rest. Would not let him close his eyes for a minute to just take a break. A breather. But that annoyance was shoved to the side as the cloth was pressed hard to his bicep and those fingers began to wander once more.

 

Hog was used to pain. Was used to waking up with it in his joints. Was used to the occasional mishap while on the job. Hell he was even used to hurting himself a good number of times while scrapping a dilapidated house, turned out rotting floorboards had a weight limit, but this? This was new.

 

The pain caused his eyes to well with a tear or two, an automatic response as his nerves became overwhelmed by that wiggling digit only for it to pull out sans bullet. Hog barely registered what Rat had said because the next thing he knew, his weight had shifted. Sending him, and the bike he had been perched on, shuttling to the ground with a loud crash. The impact of his sore arm against the red dirt and sand forced a groan of agony from Hog as he lay on the ground. One that had him desperately reaching out to press two fingers to the wound. He did not dare try to wiggle one of his own digits in there but he did something that had his breath leaving him in a whimper her would definitely deny later.

 

Trembling fingers pressed to the wound shakily before leveraging it open. Forcing flesh and skin to tear with a sickening snap as he effectively made the bullet a little easier to get to at great cost to him. "Try...again."

 

Rat’s breathing was shallow with panic, pulse pounding. This was fucking bad. What if he couldn’t get it?  What if—

 

And the distracting thoughts put him off his game enough that he missed the telltale shift of the bike, failing to jump fully clear. It didn’t pin him, but it did slam against his leg hard enough to drive a scream out of his taut throat as he spun away.

 

Bloody hands gripped his hair as he bounced in place a few times, trying to push past the flare of pain. And when he turned around?  It was just in time to see Hog there in the dust, prying open the wound.

 

The blood flow thickened, and Rat did not think. He just acted, delving in with skinny fingers and popping the cursed thing right out.  A wordless sound left him, heady and thin with relief, as he pressed that bloody cloth over both wounds to slow the flow, pushing the man’s much larger hand aside. “Done!  Done, mate. I got ya. It’s out. No more, no more a that.”

 

Hog heard the scream as Rat cried out but barely registered it as he forced the wound open. He was a strong guy but with exhaustion from blood loss hitting him full force, not to mention it was his own skin he was prying open, he could only maintain that deep stretch for a short period of time. Thankfully Rat was smart as a god damn whip and darted forward to rip the scrap of spent metal out of him just in time.

 

Now that the bullet was gone, the flow of blood seemed to lessen dramatically as Hog's body could finally begin to clot properly without the object in the way. His breathing finally began to even out after a few beats and while he did not immediately pop up and dance around, he sure as hell felt better the longer the other's hands pressed down on the wound until that burning searing pain seemed to ebb away significantly.

 

Laying in the dirt covered in his own sweat and blood was not somewhere Hog wanted to be, but the realization that he was lucky to even be conscious at this point left him feeling grateful. Something he usually had no reason to feel.  Dropping his welted hand on Rat's shoulder, he gave it a good steady squeeze. The trembles had noticeably subsided as he did so. "Thanks." He mumbled, his hand a heavy weight across that soot streaked shoulder before it fell away to help prop Hog up with a well placed elbow in the dirt.

 

Rat gave a thin laugh, just dropping to his knees and then to a hip, flopped against Hog’s middle to rest. The falling bike had left a shallow gash, but he wasn’t terribly worried about it. He bled sometimes. It was part of the work. He’d deal with it later.  For now, he just held the cloth where it was, resting for a minute. .Honestly, in any other situation, Rat wouldn't be lounging so easily either. But not leaning against Hog meant he leaned against the bike or nothing. And he couldn't touch the bike, so... There he was

 

“Yeah, yeah,” he grunted, eyes closing just for a moment as he began to register the mounting heat beating down on them. “Gotta wrap it still. Just give me a mo.”

 

The brief moment of comparative calm just let the realization of the situation sink in. Injuries, a tipped bike, middle of nowhere, a mounting bounty.

 

God.

 

Alright fuck resting. His body was spent, all of this happening after a sleepless night, but he didn’t wanna think this hard.  He pushed up, digging in his pack for supplies.

 

While he was no medic, he didn’t live this long without knowing at least a little of how to get himself patched up. So he pulled out three things. Clear moonshine, bandages... and a stapler.

 

“One last fuck you, Hoggie. How ya doin’?  Ya gonna pass out on me if this hurts, cause it’s gonna hurt like shit and you can’t afford to go out, mate. Tell me ya can handle it.”

 

Pushing up to sit, Roadhog squinted up at the sky as the clouds shifted and the sun continued to climb higher. Illuminating more of the messy state the both of them were in. Sitting in a pile of exhaustion and speckled with quickly drying blood and sweat. It was not ideal but that was life for them wasn't it?

 

Shoving the bike off of them, mentally grumbling about the damage that most likely had been caused by the fall, he let out a grunt as Rat's weight fell on him. Any other time he would have shoved the man off. Would have made some vague threat of violence but after the last twenty four hours he figured he could allow this. Could put up with the gangly limbs tossed over him as they both caught their breath and prepared for their next hurdle and god was it a daunting one

 

He could not help the hard swallow at the sight of the stapler. Leaving the wound not only unclean but open would have it festering in about three hours in the heat that would surely come. So given only one option, he nodded with a low rumble. "Fuck, Rat. I can handle it." He had managed to stay awake during bullet excavation, he figured he could tough through this.

 

However before he allowed Rat to tend to him he pointed at the bandages. "Would be a waste to use 'em." He was big. Using enough bandages to wrap his arm firmly would not leave then with much to work with later on.

 

With the supplies carefully laid out on top of his bag, Rat paused, eyes flicking up to stare down Hog.  "I'mma bandage ya bloody arm, and ya gonna like it," he snapped. "Gonna get the wound all fulla dust, otherwise.  Not cleanin' it out, just for it to turn into one big crusty mess. We'll get supplies at the Station or sommin', or-- I don't know!  We'll be fine. We need 'em now, and we have 'em now, so fuck off."

 

And he pushed to uncap the moonshine, unceremoniously pouring it into the cap, and moving with full intent to dump it over the wound.  Less arguing if he was grimacing. Time for a cleaning.

 

When Rat snapped at him, Hog's head tilted back a little as he looked the other over. He was the bigger and stronger one, that was for sure, but that did not matter when you took into account the fact that Junkrat was his employer and so long as the junker paid the price for his time he was ultimately in control. Sure Hog might be the muscle but Rat? Rat had all the power here. The barking of orders only managed to cement that way of thinking.

 

Tucking his head down obediently, Hog shut his trap and shifted his shoulder to offer out his arm to the other. He would sit there and take it without complaint if he had to.

 

Oh.  Well.  That was compliant.  Rat really thought he was gonna have to soak that wound to shut up any complaints.  But... this was kinda nice. He gripped his bicep with his metal hand, pouring the moonshine with the other.  He could be careful not to waste any this way, and that was a hell of a lot better.

 

The moonshine left Hog's spine going painfully straight. The boiling pain that had dulled once the bullets were removed was renewed, but he did his best to stay quiet. To swallow all the sharp inhales and pained grunts so that Rat could work in peace with minimal complaints from him. But he could not help the ragged intake of breath the flushing of his wounds caused. It was a slow burning type of pain that did not subside in the least once the slow pour of alcohol halted.

 

The scrawny junker flushed the wounds, eyes flicking between Hog's mask and the work at hand, before he shifted.  His arm hooked around Hog's bicep, full body weight going into trying to hold that limb still, as the stapler lifted.  He pressed it to flesh, using the tip to shove the wound closed before he fired. One. Two, three, rapid succession, to close the first bullethole.

 

Fisting his slightly numb hand, Hog did his best to stay still. To allow Rat to pin him down. To hold him still so he could work and get this ordeal over with, but driving metal prongs into his skin and the surrounding muscle was not something that Hog could put up with for long periods of time. And by that it meant that by the third staple, Hog's arm was flexing in a slow building opposition to the junker. It was not something he had consciously decided to do, but more so a reaction of his body's need for self preservation.

 

"Rat." He hissed, it was not a warning for him to stop but somewhat of a plea to please hurry the fuck up.

 

Rat gritted his teeth, hurrying quick.  One, two three. The second and third only caught one side, but one?  Fuck it! Fuck it. Good enough. He unceremoniously pulled the two failures out, slapping the bandage over and wrapping it quickly, like he was trying to tie a damn calf.  Nope, nope, he was done with this. He tied it off, a pitiful little strip of bandage remaining at the end.

 

And he shoved off, the stress finally getting the better of him.  He paced rapidly, his own blood dripping into his boot, ignored for now.  He just walked, fingers in his hair leaving a bloody mess tangled in the sparse blonde strands.  His voice lifted in a wordless sound of frustration, shaking hands clutching his head. "Shit. Shit.  SHIT!" he roared out, kicking at nothing in particular with his pegleg.

 

The plucking of the staples was a necessary pain but one that Hog could have done without. Watching with grit teeth as Rat finished bandaging his arm, he still believed that to be kind of a waste, he pressed his own hand to the cloth as the skittish junker bounced up and away from him to pace.

 

Keeping a firm pressure on the wound to help stop further bleeding and to stave off the searing throb, he blinked down at the streak of red dripping down Rat's leg. Spilling down over that dark boot and into the sand as he walked back and forth screaming and kicking at the air. He sat there a moment. Watching it all happen before he tired to get his companions attention. "Boss." He called, forcing his voice to boom out a little louder than normal so that the other could hear him over his frantic chattering. "You're bleedin." A blood caked finger pointed to the limb, before gesturing to the sand in front of him. A silent beckoning motion.

 

“I know! I don’t care, who bloody cares, I wasn’t shot!” He threw his hands into the air, spinning around to face Hog. “What the fuck’re we gonna do?!  What if the bike’s wrecked! We’re nowhere! We’re nothing! And you, if ya live, ya gonna sell me out eventually. It’ll get high enough, I know ya fuckin’ will. Don’t know me from Adam, and even if ya did?  Wouldn’t matter,” he growled, dragging a bloody hand down his face. And then he was still for a moment, before he dropped down in front of Hog, where he indicated.

 

“Just. Fucking surprise me,” he mumbled, brow furrowed as he stared up at him there. “Just... don’t. Don’t do it.”

 

Hog stared. Well shit, Rat was right. The little gash was hardly anything compared to being shot but from Hog's experience even a little scratch could turn gangrenous and soon enough you'd be losing limbs left and right. Size didn't matter when out under the searing sun. All that mattered was an open wound.

 

The train of thought however was cut off as Rat began to babble. A mix of sentences that left Hog's mouth tipping into a frown the longer he listened to him. "We're not nothin'." He replied, his voice low and almost pained at the very idea. Of course that shit was what weighed heavily on him. His entire world had been fucking flipped upside down and the rest of the world did what? A whole lot of fucking nothing. A shit load of nothing. All while the rest of them were burning bodies in the streets because the ground was too irradiated to really dig through. His fingers squeezed the remaining bundle of bandages hard at the memory. And while he sure as hell was not about to spill his thoughts on the table when it came to that, the tale end of Rat's rant as he dropped down left Hog offended. More so than he probably should have been.

It made sense why he thought that. Handing him over today would not net much but later on down the line in a month or two? Hell he could have enough coins to be set for life and while that sounded appealing it was not what Hog was after in the end. He wanted..more. More than a chunk of change given to him. He liked to work for a living. Like to feel useful in a place that was so damn determined to forget people like him even existed. And simply hauling Rat back to Junkertown would have not only soiled his opportunity for more but it would turn him into a hunter. A sack of shit with no code. Roadhog was not really sure about Junkrat, but one thing was for sure about himself, he did not squeal for coin.

 

Meeting Junkrat's gaze, Hog snagged that bottle and splashed some of the contents across the other's shin before unceremoniously dabbing at the surface to force the alcohol to penetrate the shallow wound as best as he could. "Didn't fuckin' plan on it. 'M not a sell out." He hissed, welted palm cupped firmly around the swell of the other's calf. "Fuckin' insultin'." He grumbled under his breath.

 

Alright, Junkrat was willing to concede that Hog wasn't nothing.  His scope wasn't wide enough to even really think of what the rest of the world made of them.  His world was the wastes. It was a place he could walk through until he dropped dead of heat, and never escape.  The barriers of his existence always had been a wide berth of scorched dust, aside from a few foggy memories of somewhere with clean walls and gentle voices.

 

But everything he'd experienced from the time he was a child alone in the expanse of Junkertown reinforced it.  He, specifically, wasn't shit, and if he was going to have anything in this world? He'd have to take it himself.  So he sneered a little, growling. "Fine, you're sommin'. That just makes it worse. I'm nothin' to fuckin' give up.  A stranger, and one that don't matter on top of it all. Don't got a damn thing worth anything to bribe ya with, and nobody's code don't come with a pr--"

 

And he grimaced as the alcohol spilled across the wound, back arching as that broad finger pressed into it.  He propped himself back on his arms, panting quietly as he fought through the pain of it. But he'd had worse.  He could deal. At least it had hushed his rambling for a moment.

 

But an eye cracked open at as Hog continued, his leg stiff in his grip.  ...His good leg. And he was just gonna let it fester while he panicked. Dumbass.  Lucky the big guy was helping him out. "...Nobody's code don't come with a price," he finished, voice a little quieter, a little more tired.  "What're the odds I found the only bloke in Straya who thinks different?"

 

Hog was silent as he pressed into that gash, saturating it with alcohol until the stuff began to drip down his shin and only then did he toss that bit of gauze to the dirt in favor of straightening out Rat's limb. Tugging it until it was stretched to a more natural position as he wrapped it. His movements painfully slow but precise as he listened. Jaw working to grind at his teeth in frustration.

 

"It ain't a code if you're willin' to sell out." He shot back, giving a tug to ensure the wrap was nice a snug against Rat's skin. Pinching the small ends between his fingers he did his best to tie it as neatly as possible but it came out looking a fair bit wonky. At least it would hold though.

 

With the task completed, he dropped his hands into his lap. The flaking blood nestled in the cracks and calluses of his palms and over the swells of his welts. He was quiet for a long time. Sitting in silence as the sun beat down on his back and shoulders. He wanted to say more. To explain all the shit in his head, but did it even really matter? The other would not understand. Would not see shit in the same light as he did every day. The wasted potential in their surroundings. The way people like them made something out of nothing and managed to thrive in-between their bouts of suffering. Why the hell should people be forked over for coin when they were just trying to fuckin' survive? His eyes cut back to Rat. It didn't matter how annoying they were, you couldn't put a price on people.

 

But Hog didn't say any of that. He simply sat there in the dirt before moving to haul himself up so that he could try to right his bike. "You got my contract." He grunted as he stood. "Can't turn you in. Wouldn't get hired anymore." That was an easier explanation. Something simple to toss

 

Rat had grimaced, flopping down to let his back rest in the red dust while Hog worked.  Unlike Hog, he wasn't quiet about how much this sucked, cursing and giving thin, high whines here and there.  But he let him maneuver his leg, the skinny limb limp in his grip, not even watching him like a hawk to be sure he didn't screw up.  Shit, he was already trusting him, just a little, to endure the painful process like this. Flat on his back, leg in hand, vulnerable.  He didn't just do that, particularly not around people he'd met the prior day.

 

But the larger junker's initial words didn't help much.  Nobody would outright say that yes, they were planning to do just as he said.  That took a special kind of stupid. But the last... That did catch his attention.  That would put a mark on his reputation. And surely the queen would only double the bounty so many times.  It wasn't like his head would get to 'never have to work again' levels of pricey, would it?

 

...How valuable really was that thing?  His stomach tightened. He knew it had been a good fuckin' find, the moment he saw it.  A life changer. But all this? He'd never once suspected it would turn out this way.

 

So while he didn't fully believe Hog, at least some of the certainty that gripped around his belly that the man would eventually betray him-- some of that eased, just a tiny bit.

 

Once Hog was done, he sat up slowly and pushed to his feet, his back stained bright orange from the dust clinging to him.  Between the soot and dust and blood, he was pretty well a caked mess, but hell. Maybe he wouldn't get sunburnt. Moving to the side of the bike, he nodded to Hog, readying himself to try and help right it.  "...Alright then. Let's get the hell out of here before we bake." And he cracked that familiar crooked grin, looking just a little more like himself.

 

With a glance over his shoulder at the filth covered man, Hog really had no room to comment knowing that not only were they both going to be stinking from a mixture of sweat and old blood by the end of the day. And once they were on the road again they were sure to be met with plumes of dust and debris as they rode along the wasteland, the only plus in that being that maybe some of it would flake off in the wind. "Right." He agreed, shoving away any and all thoughts of building trust and vulnerability in favor of focusing solely on the task at hand. He'd berate himself later over letting his guard down.

 

Turning his attention to his beloved chopper, his heart sank faster than it had in the past fifteen years. He could tell that it was fucked. The fall to the ground caused the immense weight of the bike to crush a component of the engine if the oil currently soaking the sand around the chopper was anything to go by. But the extent of the damage was hard to asses with the most damaged portion down in the dirt. He...really did not even know what to do at this point. The realization that if the bike was unrideable then they were going to be fucked suddenly hit home and he tucked down.

 

Gripping onto the bike with his sore hands as he tried to haul the thing up with Rat's help. However the amount of blood he had lost, not to mention the damage to his arm and shoulders, made Hog practically useless as he exerted himself. Straining his muscles as he worked through the pain only for him to manage to get it about halfway before his strength petered out with a grunt.

 

Rat was blissfully ignorant of how bad the damage really was, but he did know one thing. Bikes were supposed to be right side up. And so his tired, aching self gripped the thing, pulling along with Hog so hard that his voice broke. The pain seared in his shoulder and leg, but he didn’t care. It all had to go into this one pull, or he didn’t think he’d be able to manage an attempt number two.

 

And miraculously, even as Hog faltered, Rat did it. Muscles strained, and he cried out raggedly, but the bike groaned and shifted upright.

 

Panting, he hung there against the front tire, looking up in exhaustion to Hog. “Let’s-  lets go mate.”

 

At first Hog had been sure he was hallucinating when the bike was lifted from the earth. Surely the blood loss was playing tricks on his mind and Rat had not just shoved the entire chopper back upright by himself that...that wasn't possible. And yet when his hand reached out to rest against the leather, it was definitely there. He honestly did not expect the other to pull it off, figuring what with the junker's lanky frame and injured shoulder that the man did not carry a penchant for weight lifting and yet-

 

"You...You okay, Boss?" Hog asked with the tiniest ittiest bittiest amount of concern over the crack in his voice and slumped state of his body, still rather caught of guard by Rat's show of strength as he knelt down to look over the bike. Well...it didn't look good. The engine was crushed on one side and leaking oil and the axel seemed to be bent.  


Rat nodded a few times, still catching his breath.  His shoulder was screaming now, and it looked a little flat on top, arm sticking out just the slightest bit higher than it should.  The fresh dislocation was extra mobile still, and it had slipped out of socket again-- but he had been expecting pain, and without feeling the distinct pop, he didn't realize it was actually dislocated again.  So he just shifted a little to keep his ginger treatment of it a bit more hidden, and tried to keep the pain off his face as well as he could. Just like the gash to his leg, he was ignoring this one. If a limb wasn't blown off, who cared about an injury.  It would heal. "M'fine, m'fine," he grunted, wrinkling his nose and pushing to stand.

 

Carefully, as carefully as a giant leather clad junker possibly could be, Hog sat on the bike. His frown deepening as he settled. It was clear that shit was off even while resting on uneven ground and upon priming the engine, all of Hog's hopes in dreams went out the window as the poor thing stuttered rather dramatically, a sizzle of smoke escaping from the exhaust, but by some miracle it turned on...Only to die a few minutes later.

 

This...this was not happening.

 

His heart lifted as he heard the massive machine turn on, slinging a leg over to climb aboard and wait.  And.. then it died. Junkrat just sat there in front of Hog, staring out at the horizon. The bleak, flat, red horizon, with the sun beating down on them.  He had no scrap. He had no money. There was no one here to buy from. All the wind went out of him, and the gravity of the situation fell squarely on his aching shoulders.

 

They were gonna die out here, weren't they.  Bake and fester and die, unless someone came down that road and shot them first.  And he reacted the only way a Junkrat can react to terrible news. He hunched forward a little, his mechanical hand covering his face, and he started cackling.  It was quiet at first, before it mounted into a full fledged fit of giggles. "We're fucked! We're fucked, mate! Lookit us! We got a bike, we got two bloody geniuses at fightin', and we're gonna die in the bloody desert!  We should die on the bike so the people who come to salvage have to pick us outta the bloody thing's parts once we're piles of baked-on goo and bones."

 

There was a split second where Hog was gritting his teeth as his hands fisted the handlebars. Squeezing onto them in frustration as the first few giggles slipped out of Rat before the manic laughter officially started drawing Hog's full attention down to Junkrat.

 

Rat's voice was a rapid rollercoaster of giggles. The sheer volume would increase before slowing to spout a few more lines of negatives where, once finished, the cackling picked up again. Leaving Hog taking in the junker's appearance silently, eyes carefully looking the man over as he had a full mental breakdown.

 

Starting from that patchy head, he frowned at the blood raked through those strands. At the way he covered his face and hunched only further emphasizing that something was clearly wrong with that shoulder of his as it jutted out from the rest of them. The expression only deepened when his eyes landed on the edge of the bandage visible and tight around Rat's shin. And all of it was topped with a heaping of dust and sweat.

 

Junkrat was pretty fucked up. They both were worse for wear, and yet while Rat continued his fit seeming intent to talk them both to death with imagery of their corpses seared to metal, Hog took a calming breath and placed a hand on Rat's head. "Boss, we're not gon' die." His palm pressed slightly against Rat's scalp, trying to ease the man back down to rational thinking with the steady pressure of his hand. Panicking would only exhaust them and would sooner kill them faster than anything else if they let it. "Don't know 'bout you, but I'm too fuckin' stubborn." His hand slipped down the curve of Rat's neck to his shoulder where it continued until he tapped against the metal prosthetic attached to his arm. "Got a feelin' you are too."

 

His touch lingered there for a moment in thought before he twisted his aching body to grab for his purse, the second he grabbed it his heart sank a little.

 

It was wet.

 

One of the canteens had punctured and had dribbled to the ground either during the fall or maybe just dumb luck, but Hog kept the revelation to himself as he pulled one of his few remaining canteens out and pressed it to Rat's chest, where he would hold the cool metal until the man relinquished it from him.

 

Rat tensed sharply when he felt that hand on his head.  When he had a bit of a meltdown, people around Junkertown tended to handle it somewhere in the same vein as breaking up a cat fight.  Toss something at it, make a big clamor to scare it off, boot it out further beyond your peripheral, and hope it handled itself. So when Hog's massive hand pressed to the back of his head, he fully expected him to grip and lob him off the bike.  

 

He was gonna die on this thing, damn it.  He gripped hard where he sat, hunching down and bracing himself to fight the toss.  But... nothing came. It was just a warm, steady pressure. He didn't even realize his laugher had stopped at first, or that the grit of his teeth was slowly but surely easing.  He just sort of hung there, breath husky, as he absorbed a little of that calm.

 

He expected a lot of things out here, but a little gentleness utterly threw him off guard.  That calm seemed to move with Hog's hand, his back easing a bit as he moved downwards. Eyes flicked down to look at the join of metal and skin, and he was maybe just a little bit heartened.  He drew in a shaky breath, and nodded. He was fucking stubborn. That was true.

 

But his nerves started spiking as soon as the contact broke and Hog shifted to get the water.  What was that?! It was like the guy jabbed a shutdown button on him and just held it there for a minute!  Admittedly, nobody had actually tried being gentle and calming like that with him before, but the fact that it had worked freaked him the hell out.  He looked around himself, trying to shake it off, and then there was a canteen pressed against him, cool and welcome against his hot skin. Fingers wrapped around it, looking down to the thing for a brief moment.

 

And then he launched off the bike in all his battered glory, clutching the canteen like a life preserver.  He gave Hog a wild, bewildered look, before he just scooted off enough to be well out of arm's reach. He crouched there, taking a  short swig. Damn well knew better than to be greedy with something as precious as water, out here. "Yeah, well-- fuckin'--" He sputtered a bit, not really sure how to react.  "Ya don't know me!" he settled on, waddling in his crouch to turn his back to the big guy. He shot a last, suspicious look over his shoulder, clutching that canteen close for the cool of the metal alone.  

 

Somewhere in the distance beyond him, which Rat was too distracted to see, there was a faint plume of red dust.  Someone was coming up the road.

 

And just as soon as the canteen was snagged from his fingers, Rat was up and gone. Skittering across the red dirt to hunch down and stare at him, only leaving Hog blinking slowly at the scene in front of him. Damn that guy could move fast when he wanted to, huh?

 

"Mhm." He grunted in agreement, large fingers ghosting over the bandages wrapped tight around the swell of his bicep. "Figure I don't, but you don't know me neither. Could've let me bleed out. Ain't much use hurt."  His head then tucked down as he rifled through the bag to grab another canteen, giving it a shake. "Seems pretty fucked up to save someone then die without lettin' 'em make shit even."

 

The cap of the canteen popped off with a sharp click as he grabbed for his mask. Grabbing the edge of it, he went to lift it but stopped once his eyes caught that plume in the distance. His eyes widened, arm dropping slightly as he took in the scene behind the hunched man. He would have missed it had he been more eager for a drink, but thankfully he hadn't.

 

Pointing out towards the swirling sand, Hog moved to stand. "Boss." He capped the canteen and shoved it into the bag. "We've got company. Don't have time to be dyin' now."

 

Rat looked up quickly, sharp features drawn in concern.  Sure enough.. there was that telltale plume of dust, drawing closer.  He grimaced, shifting to skitter behind the bike. "Maybe they ain't on us.  Maybe they don't know I'm worth anything," he said rapidly. He dug in his pockets, offering up fistfuls of grenades to Hog.  "Can ya check it out? I gotcha back mate, just think it'd be stupid to go flashin' me face out there. Think they saw me?"

 

And the approaching group grew ever closer, distinguishable now.  It was what once might have been an open-backed truck for a yard service, but now it was packed full of people, battered suitcases, and the lines of quick and easy structure frames.  A group of settlers relocating out further from Junkertown, from the looks of it.

 

Rat straightened up just a little, a bit of his fear ebbing.  He looked to Hog. "We gotta stop 'em," he said low.

 

"Stop 'em?" He kept his frame entirely still, shifting a little to try and hide Rat's curious face from the view of the junkers as their vehicle approached. "Why?" Hog just did not see the point. No one in their right mind would stop for them. Traps littered the streets of Oz just waiting for people to show compassion so it could be shoved back in their face with a bullet.

 

"They ain't gonna stop." He mumbled, head turning away from the vehicle to instead stare down

 

Rat stared.  "Because otherwise we're gonna die in the bloody desert on a broken bike!  Fuck it! Fuck it," he said in taut desperation, voice high in thin. "I'll do it myself."  And he unceremoniously gripped his arm, twisted it, and dropped the hunk of intricate metal into Hog's lap.  Leaning in, he shoved his face into Hog's mask, voice as tense and dangerous as anything he'd ever said in front of the man.  "Don't break it. Don't keep it from me when I get back." And he went running across the dust, limping harshly between his peg leg and his injured calf.

 

He hammed it up as he got closer to the road, staggering and then falling into the dust, coughing pathetically.  He lifted what remained of his severed arm, waving it briefly, before he reached up with the intact one and just kind of reached towards the approaching vehicle.  He was a bloody, dusty desperate mess.  
  
Hog caught the arm automatically, head reeling back as Rat pressed in. The warning was loud and clear, and while he didn't see the point in stealing a man's arm, he gave a slight nod regardless. Watching the man limp off and put on the poorest execution of acting Hog had ever seen, and he had seen countless school plays in his childhood.

 

That motherfucker was playing the pity card.  And the approaching caravan replied with the sound of a gunshot.  

 

It whizzed past him, pinging against the earth as he ducked and covered.  But no other shots came. It was apparently a warning to keep his distance, as the settler truck slowed to a halt.  A few guards hopped down, standing protectively in front of the back, where the more vulnerable passengers remained.  Rat slowly lifted his head, eyes wide. ...Fuck. Maybe he should have just stayed where he was.

 

Slowly while Rat did his thing, Hog stuffed the arm into his purse and tucked it next to the bulk of the bike, hiding it away for the time being. He was fully prepared to sit and wait for Rat to get done with whatever the fuck he was trying to pull, that was until the shot rang out and Hog was up and off the bike within seconds. Well..a little longer than seconds but he moved pretty quickly to Rat's side. Large palms raised in surrender for the time being as he drew closer.

 

"Not lookin' for trouble." He explained, boot sliding across the sand to nudge at Rat's side. Get up you fool. "We're stranded. Know you ain't got much, but figure you got some shit that might help us." Roadhog continued, trying to appear as non threatening as possible which was a difficult task but he felt he did alright. "Can give you coin for a ride or some spare shit you don't really need."

Rat did not get up. He just sort of groaned, reaching out for help before dramatically falling over in the dust, clutching at his chest. “I’m dyin’! Dyin’ in the dirt, mates!  I only got one arm and one leg and it’s so sad!”

 

And the head of the group dropped from the driver's seat, two curved arcs of metal hitting the dust. A metal hand gripped the side of the door, and slammed it shut,  and stood glowering down at Rat from beneath the brim of a slouch hat. Her legs were a scrapped together version of the back-bent cheetah style runner’s prosthetics, one arm clearly ripped off and reconstructed from an omnic.

 

She did not seem amused at this particular play of the pity card. She lifted her revolver, pointing it at Rat and waited for Hog to join them.

 

“Ya should rein in your idiot,” she grunted, spitting into the dust. “And tell ‘im to grow a little pride.”  She was so damn pissed at Rat’s display, she wasn’t even addressing him directly. “Stopped when I saw him fall. Didn’t know we were gonna get an eyeful of whatever this is. Bloody lucky you walked up, or I just might put him outta his misery.  So talk quick before I get more riled than I already am. What you got for trade, pig boy.”

 

Hog raised a brow beneath his mask at her display, already reaching down to try and haul Rat up by his harness. Stop fucking around. He mentally hissed. It was going to end with them getting shot if he continued. He was pretty damn sure of that. "Been out in the sun too long." He explained with a gesture down to the horrible actor. "Figure you're our last chance before he goes-" A vague hand gesture was made. "-bat shit."

 

With that over and done with he cleared his throat. "Ain't got much." He explained, a sick twist in his gut as he gestured to his broken down chopper. "Can take what you want from it in exchange for a ride and lettin' me keep the frame."  He hated this. Not only had the project he had been working on for twenty years reduced to scrap in twenty four hours, but now he was using it as a bargaining chip. Shit really couldn't be worse.

 

Rat grunted as he was hauled upright, arm shifting to grip at his shoulder in genuine pain, this time. And he had no hand to do it with. He hated this. But with a gun on him and Hog doing so well, he took his cue and hushed.

 

At least until he offered the bike for scrap. He froze, shaking his head quickly. “Hoggie, no,” he murmured,voice quiet. One of the hands that was raised in surrender dropped down onto Rat's uninjured shoulder as he started to speak up. Willing the man to just...let him handle it. It was hard enough already giving up the only thing he could decidedly say he loved, he didn't need the man to elongate the process further. Best to get it over and done with. All good things had to turn to shit eventually. That was just how shit was.

 

The driver stopped, squinting over at that chopper in silence. “...Don’t use bikes. Could get some parts that might be compatible, but...”. Her voice trailed. “Fuck. Fine. I’ll set one of the boys to pick some pieces off, try and leave ya enough to repair. But.”

 

She jabbed a finger at them. “We are towin’ ya. And if you even look like you might cause trouble, we’re cutting ya loose in the middle of the street. Got me?”

 

"Yes ma'am." Hog replied with a rumble. "We won't cause no trouble." His gaze dropped down to Rat to give the man a little nudge, eyes landing on the other shoulder with a grimace. Oh yeah. Shit. He'd have to fix that here soon but for now he just hoped the man could last a little while longer until they got on the road.

 

She snorted, giving a short nod.  Pointing out towards the empty field, she jerked her head towards them.  "Go stand there. Boys'll pick it over and get ya hitched up. Then you can climb aboard.  Stay away, stay still, and don't say a damn word to 'em while they work. You understand me?  Ya mighta been big shit once, but break down in a place like this, and that's done." Her gun finally dropped from Rat, watching them close to see what they did.

 

Rat gritted his teeth, but didn't say a word.  His sense of self-preservation won out against all else right now, and he didn't so much as shoot her a dirty look before he started walking to the indicated place.  Glancing back to Hog, he paused only to make sure the big guy was coming, too.

 

Hog looked to the place she indicated, giving a small nod. Yeah he understood and it seemed like Rat did as well if the slow limp away was any sign. But the larger junker did not move. Not yet.

 

"Got a bag of shit by the bike." He started, hands folding over his harnessed chest. "It ain't part of the deal. I want it before your men start scrapin'."

 

She squinted, arms folding. “No deal. Told ya we don’t use bikes. That cargo could be the most useful shit on the bike for us.”

 

Rat turned, lip a little curled and expression uncertain. What’re we doin’, Hoggo.

 

Hog wasn't satisfied with that. He refused to be satisfied with that and continued to push. Bound and determined to keep the bag and its contents with them. "You agreed to the bike." He pointed out. "You knew we had cargo. Have to be a fuckin' idiot to come out here without it but you accepted my first fuckin' offer." Hog replied calmly. "Ain't my fault you didn't push for somethin' better."

 

She squinted at Hog, stepping a little closer.  She looked over his bloodied arm pointedly, then back to his mask.  "You and your shithead irritation over there are on death's door, and you're pullin' this shit with me?  I agreed to take you to town out of the goodness of m' heart, and you wanna call the shots on lootin' rights?  I could kill you both now and just take the damn thing."

 

And she snorted, laughing.  "You're a ballsy fucker. Fine.  Go get your shit," she chuckled, jerking her head, before she pointed to Rat.  "Not him though. Fuck him."

 

"Oy!"  And apparently Rat had enough of behaving.  "Fuck you! I'm gettin' me--"

 

And her revolver came back up, squared at him, her stance solid.   But she didn't shoot, she just waited. "Move quick, big man," she called to Hog, voice singsong.

 

Roadhog hesitated a moment, sparing a glance to Rat and just..mentally begging him to shut up. To just wait a moment longer until they were out in the field where he could rant and rave as they waited until it was time to go. But he did not know if the man was actually capable of doing so, and that resulted in Hog given a grunt before he stepped away and called over his shoulder. "Sounds fair. Stay still, Boss. Don't want your head poppin' after all this."

 

Crossing the distance to the wrecked chopper, Hog smoothed his hand over the seat as he bent down to haul up the bag, his fingers giving the worn leather a remorseful squeeze. It was probably the last time he was ever going to see the damn thing completely whole for a while so he took a split second to mourn the poor thing, fingers discreetly plucking the keys from the ignition and pocketing them. Knowing that by doing so the ignition would be fucking useless to scrap, you couldn't just find keys to fit shit and forging one would take too much time. He was determined to keep as much of the bike as possible.

 

Slinging the bag onto his arm, Hog paused as he spotted the two satchels. He grabbed the straps and slid them over his forearm as well. Cargo was not included in the deal. They had decided on that so leaving Rat's shit was not even a thought that crossed his mind.

 

With his good arm weighed down with various bags, Hog made his way back towards the duo. "Thanks." He mumbled to the woman as he passed, a hand already pressing to Rat's side to nudge him in the direction of the field, all while side eyeing her. He did not think for a moment that she would stop herself from pulling the trigger if she suddenly found that they weren't worth the trouble.

 

Rat watched like a hawk, a wash of relief passing over him  once he saw that Hog did indeed grab his bags. He exhaled shakily and resolved to stay quiet for once in his tumultuous life.

 

And then the boys descended. Hog could not even bare to watch the thing get stripped. Pointedly turning his back on the scene to save himself some of the heartache over watching his prized possession get dismantled by a bunch of idiots who probably had no clue what they were unscrewing to begin with. Three scrappers, working the bike over like locusts crawling over its husk. They wanted to leave enough for the thing to be towable, leaving the wheels with some irritation at that fact. But they poured over the pieces, pulling parts that could be versatile enough to work into other kinds of vehicles. Overall though?  The bike wasn’t terribly stripped. It was definitely not in working order, but it hasn’t been before, either. And then they started walking it back to towing position.

 

But the driver was focused on Hog. “More’n you said, ya fuck!” She growled, stalking closer. She pointed her revolver to indicate Rat’s gun, visible sticking out of the too-small bag. “And no fucking way. On the ground. Toss it, kick it to me. What else you got?  I said cargo, not an arsenal.”

 

Rat grimaced, looking to Hog. His jaw worked, but he gave a little nod. He’d built that one. He could build another. Better this than dying in the desert.

 

Just as the rustling stopped and the slow grind of wheels on crushed asphalt and sand sounded, the woman addressed him. Forcing Hog to stop and turn his head just the slightest bit in her direction. Cargo was fucking cargo. Didn't matter if it was guns or two thousand pieces of gum. But it wasn't his gun and when Rat nodded, all Hog could do was fish the launcher out and toss it to the ground, where the metal smacked against it and rolled a few times closer to the woman.

 

Without even pausing to think over how to best maneuver this situation, he shook his head. "Don't have nothin' else. Just-" His large hand slowly crept into the bag, the other raised in surrender so that the woman knew he was still unarmed as he brought a canteen out to wiggle. "-water, food, and bandages. We're-" He glanced at Rat. "-prone to gettin' hurt. Not much room for anythin' else."

 

Rat gave a quietly pained sound at the smack of his gun on the hard ground. But that was his choice. That was it. His trade to get to live.

 

Driver stared at them. She was silent for a long moment, before she growled and jerked her head towards them. “Search them,” she snapped.

 

One of the boys working on the bike jogged over, ready to do exactly that. Meanwhile, Driver just headed over to help the others secure the bike in tow. Fuck it. If this went south?  She wanted to be able to drive off with the thing tugged along behind.

 

Hog grit his teeth at that, watching her turn her back on them as the junker moved closer. It pissed him off. He was already giving up shit that was worth more than a tow, and now more was about to get snagged from him and Rat. That didn't sit well with him.

 

Straightening his posture and forcing himself to take up as much space as possible, Hog's voice dropped down low when the junker approached them. Trying his best to keep anyone besides the three of them from hearing his offer. "I'll give you all the coin I got if you say we're clean." Money talked. Or at least Hog hoped it would.

 

The scrawny junker blinked once.  He looked between Hog and Rat, eyes barely lingering on the latter.  Typical skinny , dirty, beat up junker. But the big guy... He looked like he could genuinely have some money on him.  He narrowed his eyes, working his jaw a little. And then he reached to unceremoniously flip open a bag-- Rat's mine bag.  He lifted a brow, and then just grinned to Hog. "First bag's clear, boss," he shouted out.

 

"Don't give me goddamn minutely updates, Aldi!  Just fuckin' do it!" Driver roared out from where she was working on hooking up the chains.    
  
A breath hissed out of Hog's filtered mask as the junker took the bait. Of course he would. At the end of the day self preservation won out against everything else.

 

Aldi shrugged, grinning as he moved to check the other bags with more than a little delight and anticipation.  "So... where's it at?" he whispered back.

 

Sighing as this Aldi-whoever searched their bags, Hog indicated his backpack purse. More specifically the sewn pocket on the outside of the bag, swollen with what looked to be a bundle of something but upon further inspection it would turn out to be a modest pouch of coins. One he would happily part with if it meant they could just end the current situation.

 

And Rat.  Fought not to cackle with sheer relief and delight at Hog's trick.  And he lost, slapping hands over his mouth to try and quell it. Goddamn it.

 

Eyes cutting over to Rat at the giggle, Hog's gripped tightened minutely on the bag before he quickly hushed the Rat. Doing his best to cover for the man. "He ain't even touchin' you that much and you're not that ticklish. So stop laughin'."

 

Aldi took the hint, snatching the bag of coins and pocketing them with a wink. “All clear, boss! Buncha medical shit and clothes and junk. Must be movin’, too.”

 

And Rat panicked a little. He needed to get this under control!  Shit, shit, this always spiraled— he’s laugh, then laugh at the fact that he couldn’t stop laughing, and it just went downhill from there. So he just desperation-bit the inside of his cheek, and miraculously, it worked. He grimaced and sobered himself, taking a steadying breath.

 

“...Yeah, well, shoulda paid a transport then, instead a getting stranded out here alone,” Driver called back. “Alright. All hooked. Wait for us to get into the cab, and you two can get aboard. We’ll unhook ya at the Station.”

 

Rolling his eyes at the wink, Hog let out a slightly victorious huff. They had somehow managed to do the impossible. Sure Rat lost his launcher and Hog's favorite thing got ruined but they could rebuild once they got to the station. Sure they would have to make money before they could do much of anything, but at least they were alive.

 

Listening to Rat stifle his giggles, Hog just let out a grunt as the junkers began to load up. Leaving the both of them awkwardly standing there waiting for everyone to file in and hopefully not take off with the bike.

 

Now that they had some more wiggle room, Roadhog turned to Rat and frowned. He...really was not sure what to say to the other man. They had managed to get there way by the skin of their teeth and the whiplash of going from being stranded to now being directly taken to the place they had originally been aiming for? Well...that was fuckin' great. His lips split into a grin as he nudged Rat good naturedly. Letting the small shove and low chuckle speak for themselves.

 

Rat jostled, standing there slack-armed and spent. He looked up to Hog, cracking a slightly bloody-toothed smile. And the he just turned and thunked his head down against his arm to rest a moment.

 

Hog allowed the contact, shouldering the man's weight without a single complaint until the honks had him nodding and looking down to his companion. "Mhm."

 

The rest filled back into the truck slowly but surely retaking their posts. Driver honked a few times, and Rat looked up. Must be the signal to get aboard. “...Please tell me ya still got me arm?” he said finally, as he moved to pile back onto the bike.

 

With not much else to really do, he followed Rat to the bike to settle on down for the long journey. "I got it. In-" He tapped a finger to his backpack purse. "-this one here. Told me not to fuckin' lose it, and I didn't."

 

He settled into the bike, practically melting with relief. “Thank fuck. Can’t believe we’re not dead. I mean, the Station might fuck us with my bounty, but... we got a chance like this,” he mumbled, gingerly shifting his weight to avoid any pressure on that shoulder. “Hand it here, had about enough of the one arm thing. Didn’t work, anyways. I would find the one fucker in the Outback more scrapped than I am.”

 

"Serves you right for floppin' down in the road. Least they didn't swerve to hit you." He pointed out, already unzipping the bag so he could offer out the limb as gingerly as a man his size could.

 

With the prosthetic handed over, Hog settled in behind him. Boxing Rat in-between his arms as he reached out to grip the handles. His bullet wounds had stopped bleeding long ago, and for that he was pretty damn grateful for however the sting in his bicep once again had his attention shifting to Rat's clearly dislocated shoulder as their tow started its engine with a rumble.

 

He struggled to get the damn prosthetic back in place properly with his one intact arm dislocated the way it was. He settled on just wedging it with his legs to hold it in place and work the fastenings with his fingers. Giving a relieved huff, he extended the metal hand, resting each finger before he flopped back.

 

Metal fingers finally got to grip around his shoulder and cradle it again, trying to gently brace it and keep it still. And of course, that was when truck revved, and off they went, the bike jerking as it kicked off.  He cursed, gritting his teeth.

 

Hog was quiet for a moment,contemplating whether he should offer or not but fuck it. After everything they had been through, he figured he might as well before they started moving. "You fuckin' pulled it outta socket." He mumbled, a finger lightly swooping down to brush over the area in question. "Want me to pop it in, or you want to wait?"

 

“Yeah yeah yeah, just do it!” He said quickly, tipping his head to try and give him a little more room to work.

 

Releasing an unsure hum from behind Rat, his fingers pressed around the dislocated joint to get a feel of what the best angle was to really wrench it back into place.

 

He...really did not know the best way to go about this from his position, so he did what he could. Wide fingers wrapped around Rat's bicep to gain steady control of the limb before he questioned the other. "You sure you're ready?"

 

“It’s gonna hurt no matter when we do it, so just do it and get it done!” he hissed out, gritting his teeth. He braced himself, gripping Hog’s thighs and squeezing his eyes closed. Anticipation really was the worst part.

 

Not wanting the wait to kill the man, Hog's other hand wrapped around Rat's side. Holding him firmly in place as he gave a sudden jerk to the arm. Forcing the joint out and away from the crooked position it had called home the past hour or so and back into its rightful place with a satisfying pop.

 

He knew it was going to hurt regardless, but his palm rubbed over the junker's shoulder to try and ease what little he could. Massaging the sore muscles for a good moment afterwards until he pulled away. Content that he had snapped it back into place as quickly as he had. Perhaps he was realizing a new talent or something? If so he doubted many people would praise him for it, but it got an amused snort out of him regardless.

 

Rat’s chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, until that final jerk. He cried out, a few curious settlers craning to look and see what was going on back there.

 

He was far from giving a damn what they made of the situation. He beyond physically and mentally  exhausted, bloody and hot and in a hell of a lot of pain. So he just slapped his hand over Hog’s and held it there. The grip of someone with the give of skin was just better at soothing the pain than his own metal fingers. His grip just tightened when he moved to pull away, giving a quietly miserable sound in his throat.

 

Oh.

 

Uhh.

 

Hog glanced up at the settlers for a moment, his hand half lifted from Rat's shoulder as that metal one scrambled to keep it in place. Well shit. He was pretty damn sure this probably looked like something to those outside of the situation but Hog saw it for what it was. An act of desperation from a man who had been through all types of hell in the past twenty-four hours and while they were little more than strangers, Hog had suffered right there beside him and would probably carry the scars from it for the rest of his life. He...he could allow this. Could allow the deliberate squeeze of his fingers over that shoulder as his hand was successfully tugged back in place.

 

Huffing softly, he tried his best to localize his movements. Working in small rubbing circles over Rat's sore flesh for the time being. It was not like he had anything else to do.

 

And Rat’s frame subtly eased against his belly. He’d been pretty sure the guy was gonna shake him off and maybe whack him upside the head for his effort, but this was a welcome relief. He wasn’t normally prone to bouts of contact like this, but fuck. It had been a hell of a day, and this was helping.

 

“Thanks, mate,” he said quietly, letting his hand drop to his lap. “Fuck this day. But we’re alive, yeah?  Not— not bad.”

 

"A real shit day." Hog grumbled from behind him, fingers pressing and kneading into Rat's shoulder mindlessly as he looked about the scenery as they were towed. It was nowhere near as fast as they had been going on the chopper but it sure as hell beat walking. "’S real fucked."

 

His jaw worked a little as he thought about what lay ahead of them. With no money between them and few things to trade for supplies, coming up with a safe place to hide Rat away was not going to be an easy task. "...They're takin' us to the Station." He eventually brought up. "Figurin' people probably know about the price on you there."

 

He nodded shallowly. “We’re gonna be fucked as soon as someone puts two and two together. News don’t travel that fast out here, but that’s a big fuckin bounty,” Rat muttered. “Too big a town for chances.”  

 

The junker grimaced a little, shifting his shoulder slightly to improve the positioning of Hog’s fingers. “The hell you think we should do?  I don’t got a lotta fight left in me, mate.”

 

He just continued soothing his fingers and palms over that shoulder as Rat situated himself better, letting out a small sigh. "Wonder if that poster with your face on it has like...all your details on it..." He asked, more so presenting the thought to the other than asking a genuine question. "Wonder if we can cover your face and get away with just that.."

 

“Shoulda been a mask bloke like you,” he snorted. “Guess we can work out m’bag into somethin’? I don’t know. Better than nothing, I guess. But the leg and the arm might be more recognizable. Wish I could see one of the bloody posters and see what the hell they’re after.”

 

Masks were definitely convenient when it came to this sort of thing, that was for sure. "Pop off your arm, put on some fuckin' pants and a mask and no one would blink fuckin' twice at you I bet." He nodded at the idea, fingers halting as he thought it all over. "Think that's our only option if we're goin' to be 'round there a while."

 

“Yeah let me just produce a pair of trousers from outta my ass,” he cackled. “Guess we can just jump off the bike and run into the shops, but do we even have any money left? More worried about gettin’ pounced the moment we enter city limits.”

 

Hog's hand pulled away from Rat's shoulder to scratch idly at his arm as a bug smacked against it. "Mm." He grunted with a tiny shrug. "I don't got another mask for you either. What we need, we're gonna have to trade for." He jiggled his arm a little, causing the bags to sway back and forth. "Figure we got somethin' in here that can buy you somethin'. Ain't gonna be pretty whatever we find."

 

“...Could lemme borrow yours,” he drawled, knowing good and well that would get shot the hell down. “Just for the first lil bit!  Until we can get in for a proper disguise. I’ll let ya take m’arm for collateral. And disguise and all. I’m keepin’ the leg, though.  Take my damn chances, there.”

 

Roadhog licked his lips before biting down on his bottom lip. Worrying the flesh between his teeth. With no other money, what sort of option did they really have at this point? He knew in his current state he could not hold his best in a brawl if one came their way and neither could Rat after the hell his shoulder had gone through.

 

Effectively splitting the inside of his lip, Hog gave the quietest of replies as he tasted copper on his tongue. "Fine." It was barely over a whisper, but he was sure Rat probably heard it as he shifted anxiously behind the man. Not really believing he had agreed to willingly taking off his mask and handing it over. He only hope his lungs could make it until he got it back.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I had to ask. I— wait.”  He stopped. He craned to look back. “Wha’?!  Mask blokes don’t take off their masks. Are you serious?” The question spilled out rapidly, voice lifting.

 

"Shut up-" He growled, a large hand pressing to Rat's face where he pushed. Trying to make him face front once more. "-before you make me change my fuckin' mind."

 

And he bit his palm. Not too hard, but a bite nonetheless. He shook his head a little to try and knock himself loose, his voice coming a little muffled against skin. “No seriously, are ya serious?  This could seriously solve some problems! Are ya wanted too or sommin’ though? Or all fucked up, or...?”

 

Hog growled, fingers tightening a moment around Rat's head in contemplation as those teeth dug into him before he let out an achingly slow breath. Allowing his immediate temper to cool slightly to where popping the man's head like a grape did not seem as satisfying as it had seconds ago.

 

Ripping his hand away from Rat's face, Hog angled his hand beneath the searing sun to get a better look and make sure the other didn't break the skin. He sure as hell did not need an infection to spread along his already welted flesh.

 

"I said 'fine'. That means yes or whatever." He huffed, prodding his poor abused palm. Sure he needed it to keep his already damaged lungs from worsening but an hour or two without it would not do shit to him, or at least he figured that would be the case. "Ain't wanted and that's....rude." He grunted, shooting Rat a dirty look that went unnoticed behind the mask. "You sure as hell ain't pretty neither." He pointed out.

 

No skin was broken— he’d been aiming more for annoying or surprising than real pain. But he smiled wide when the hand pulled away. “Oy!  I’m all fucked up, lookit me ya wanker. I’m fucked up as shit. Nothin’ wrong with it. That’s it, ain’t it? All scarred or somethin.”

 

"You talk too much." Hog replied back quickly, voice coming out more as an agitated grumble more so than anything else as Junkrat attempted to what? Make him feel better? He scoffed at the very idea.

 

"I've got shit lungs." He finally explained, a finger tapping the filters." The air stings 'em pretty fuckin' terrible on bad days. Nothin' I can't deal with for a while though." He shrugged all further explanations to the side. He didn't need to reveal anything else to the man. His explanation should suffice.

 

“Ohhhhhh!”  That seemed to do it, he was satisfied. He leaned in a little as the bike jostled along, inspecting the filters... and then blessedly, he turned around, easing against Hog’s belly. “Then ah... thanks. We’ll make it short, mate.”

 

He was silent for a beat, before he glanced back again.  “...You’re the real deal, ain’t ya. You really ain’t gonna do it. Sell me out.”

 

He did not appreciate that finger dipping into his filter but swallowed an irritated huff once Rat turned around, giving Hog a much needed reprieve. Something that lasted for a split second before he was looking back at him, drawing a long sigh from him that almost had him missing the other's words.

 

Sell him out?

 

This was probably the third or fourth time this conversation was brought up and being the type of guy unwilling to repeat himself more than once, Hog just shrugged his shoulders. "What makes you say that?" He figured if he kept Rat talking then at least he wouldn't have to.

 

“Ya done a lot for me so far. Stuck ya neck out. Now the mask?”  He shrugged, wincing a little at the gesture as his hand lifted to press over the sore shoulder. “Mask blokes don’t do that. Mask blokes that don’t breathe good really don’t.  But you are. So... I’unno. Guess I believe you a little,” he grunted, shifting to settle in again, facing forward.

 

Stuck out his neck? "I'd be real fuckin' shit at my job if I didn't." Hog hoped Rat would just...stay looking forward for now and give him some space despite the close quarters. Sure he had agreed to fork over his mask. Had agreed to let his beloved bike get scrapped for the sake of getting them both out of there and the reason behind those decisions was puzzling to say the least. He had his reputation, that was a given, but this early in the contract he could have killed Rat and been done with it. Now though? He was stuck.

 

And soon he was going to be maskless in public for the first time in years. Hog closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Bottling up his anxiety. He'd be fine. No one that was alive back then would recognize him. He could fucking do this. He would do this. He had no other choice really but to play the hand he had and this was it.

 

Thankfully, Rat stayed forward. He just rested for now. They’d need that rest once they got where they were going, and Rat was still running on no sleep.

 

It was utterly bizarre to think he’d been sleepless last night because he’d been in the man’s house, and how he was resting comfortably against his stomach.  It was necessity and he’d want his space tonight, but just the same. For now?

 

He was exhausted. He felt reasonably safe. And he was more tired than he could verbalize. So he shifted, settling in and closing his eyes. It was time to catch up.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Hog huffed as the truck went over another pothole forcing him to grasp onto Rat's slumped and snoozing form. Practically hugging the man to the swell of his stomach to try and prevent a rather rude awakening if he just so happened to slip off. Fuck that would be unfortunate.Squinting in the dark, he blinked at the lights glowing in the distance and gave Rat a little nudge.

 

"Almost there. You gonna get up or what?" He asked, shaking the poor guy only to receive no response at all. None. He tucked his head down, holding his ear over Rat's mouth before he righted himself. Good. At least he was breathing.

 

Keeping his grip firm as they grew closer to the Station, Hog stared at the hub. Large tankers surrounded what used to be a gas station but now was a key component in the structural integrity of what looked to be a gate forged from old rusted tanker trucks, their loads long since dried up or harnessed by whoever had luckily come across it first. The gate of course had no door, allowing Roadhog to get a peek at what lay just beyond as the truck slowed to a gradual stop, and to say it wasn't pretty was an understatement.

 

Junkertown was different. Sure the people were grubby but they worked hard and kept the streets as cleans as they could. They showed pride in being apart of the Queen's community but this? Hog's nose wrinkled when the stench of piss hit him head on. The few people he saw walking inside were dirtier than him and Rat combined, and he had to admit it was pretty fucking impressive. But it did not seem as promising as Rat had originally made it out to be. There was one large compound type building that was clearly made of scrap and concrete but it was worlds cleaner than the rotting shacks speckled about the mud and squalor. It was clear that whoever owned this place was a real piece of work.

 

"Rat come on." He tried to nudge him again to no avail.

 

Apparently the mix of exhaustion, blood loss, heat, and general misery resulted in one hell of a heavy sleeper.  Rat slept on, his only real response being to turn a little and press his face into Hog's bicep. Definitely alive, he was just out.  

 

But the world wasn't waiting for him.  They were there, and the settler truck was most definitely stopping.  With a squeak of battered brakes, it rattled to a stop, Driver dropping out the side and whistling to call her boys.  She pointed towards the bike, making a dismissive gesture towards them, and the boys moved forward, Aldi leading the pack.

 

He stopped to lean against the side of the bike, while the other two moved to start unhooking.  "Got ya far as we said. On your own now, boys. Cuttin ya loose. I'd walk your heap straight to the scrapyard if I were you," he cackled.  "Rooms for rent, that way. though." He jerked his head eastward. "Just up the way. Good luck to ya lot and--" He stopped, squinting at Rat.  "Did that thing up an' die on ya?"

 

Rat's shifting left Hog sighing in relief, his hand coming up to press that face securely to his body as he scooped the man up princess style and stood to give them room to unhitch them. He could deal with this. If Rat stayed asleep then there would be no reason to fork over his mask so long as he kept those pointed features buried against his bicep.

 

It was painful to say the least. Shouldering Rat's weight against his injured arm as Aldi peered down at him, drawing a huff from the taller junker. "Ain't dead. Just fuckin' worn out." He replied, head turning in the direction the other pointed curiously. "You got a clue where the traders are?" He asked. Sure the man didn't really have to help him, but that didn't stop him from prying for more information as his bike was unhooked. Shit how the fuck was he going to carry Rat, push the chopper and carry all their damn luggage?

 

Aldi shrugged.  "Do I look like a tour guide, mate?  Look. I'll give ya one more for free, but then, if ya find yaself needing a hand?  Ya gonna have to pay up." He winked. This guy had already paid him once. They'd already established he was willing to pay for favors and Aldi was willing to be paid.  He could see the problem forming. Too much to do, and just one big guy to handle it all. He tipped his head, looking pointedly towards Rat's bag of grenades. He'd already found what he wanted, while he was searching the pair.

 

And Rat, for his part, snoozed uselessly like the dead.

 

Hog glanced to Aldi's face then to the bag and back. "Ain't mine to give." He replied with a huff, turning Rat so that his face was pressed to his vest now rather than his arm. Made it leaps easier to carry a limp noodle that way.

 

He looked off towards the hole in the gate, with a shiver as the cold night air got to him not to mention the saturated stench of ammonia. "Whatever." He eventually mumbled. He'd figure out a way to get all of his shit somewhere safe. Most likely finding some place to sell some of the items he brought, renting a room, then...well fuck. He'd have to find a place to park his bike where it would not get scrapped further.

 

"Suit yaself, mate.  Not gonna find anybody out here that'll shoot you straight as me, that I'll guarantee."  He thumped the bike's frame twice before he turned to walk off. "Shout if you change your mind, but shout fast!"  The other two followed suit, one offering Hog a little shrug before he spun to rejoin the settlers.

 

And off they went.  Rat hung there limply, like a useless, gangly doll, face tucked in securely.  Hog was on his own, for this one.

 

* * *

 

 

The hours after watching the truck rattle on down the road until it faded into the distance were hell to say the least, but Hog eventually managed to get shit accomplished. Leaving him sitting with his back against the door of their rented room, locking it with the sheer weight of his own body as he removed and cleaned the filters of his mask.

 

Occasionally his eyes would flicker to the form sprawled on top of the moldy straw mattress with more than a little bit of envy. He wish he could just up and fucking pass out, all the aches and pains of the day were catching up now that he had some down time and no matter how much he wanted to doze off, he couldn't. Someone needed to keep watch in this shit stain of a town and that was going to be him. It was his job after all.

 

And finally. Finally, after hitting skip on every challenge of the city so far, Rat stirred. He rolled over, tossing a little, before he grunted and cracked his eyes open. There were a few spare seconds where he lay there without realizing anything was odd, before reality snapped in. He had no damn idea where he was.

 

He jerked to sit up, metal hand snapping up to grip his sore shoulder. Wild eyes flicked over the room, an agitated sound in his  throat until they fell on Hog.

 

Whatever happened, the big guy didn’t ditch him. That stressed expression turned to confusion and relief. “...Where are we?” he managed, pushing to crawl out of the bed, voice groggy. “Where’s the truck?  The—“ He stopped. “Where’s the bike?!!”

 

Hog listened to the man rustle and eventually pop up, sparing him only a glance before his gaze dropped down to the scrap of cloth he was using to scrub the filter clean, leaving the right side of his mask oddly bare without the large thing screwed onto the valve there.

 

"At the Station." Hog began to explain before he just shrugged his shoulders. "Don't worry 'bout it." Apparently that was the end of his explanation because he did not reveal anything else further. Seemingly content to focus on his task. "...Smells like shit in here." He grumbled, a hand waving to the damp room around them.

 

The walls were a combination of stained drywall and cardboard covering the wooden frame of the motel or really the piss poor excuse of a motel. It was more like a row of shacks barely holding together with ducktape, all of which were barren save for the small straw bale bed, a lopsided desk, a half spent candle, and the mysterious bucket in the corner covered with a toilet seat. All of which contributed to the theme of the room. Piss poor.

 

Rat looked around himself, not seemingly particularly phased by the squalor.  Yep, he'd been in this town before. Usually didn't bother paying for a room, opting to just kinda tuck into one of the stinking alleys until he found a suitable hiding place to bed down for the night.  So this? This wasn't Junkertown, but it wasn't bad! "We got a loo!" he said excitedly through his drowsiness, pointing to the bucket. "Ya got a proper room! Real bed and all," he cackled, delighted as he perched on the edge of the bale.  Yep, that was a real bed, compared to what he usually managed to find.

 

He rubbed at his eyes a little, before he pushed to stand and cross the room to watch Hog work.  "But seriously, how'd you swing it? Ya still got the bike, yeah? It didn't look as fucked as it coulda been, maybe we can patch 'er up."

 

He supposed Rat was right, his gaze flicked over to the bucket, that was definitely a 'loo' or at least a makeshift one.

 

Letting out a grunt as he tilted the filter towards the only source of light in the room, Hog gave a nod. Of course he still had it. Like hell was he going to let the rest of it get scrapped after working so hard to keep what little bit he had left salvageable. "I've still got it. Managed to-" His voice trailed as he spotted a smudge and quickly rubbed the surface of the stain. "-trade some shit. Paid for the room. Did a favor for a bloke that owns that tiny scrapyard here." His shoulders lifted in another shrug. "Got it tucked away till tomorrow evenin' then we're gonna have to move it."

 

"What'd ya even trade?" he asked, his back arching in a careful stretch, mindful of his shoulder.  His metal hand lifted to rub some of the ache from the joint as he leaned to stare down at what Hog was up to.  "...Shit, y' been busy. How long was I out exactly, anyways? Coulda woke me, mate." Right, as if that had been terribly possible.

 

"I tried." He shot back, snapping the filter back onto the valve of his mask before he twisted off the other one. "You were out fuckin' cold. Tried multiple times." He flashed back to where he had just tossed the man on the bed without Rat so much as wiggling in response. "And it ain't any of your business. Wasn't your shit that got traded." He screwed apart the outer shell and tapped it roughly against his knee, knocking out sand and dust.

 

He blinked.  "...Huh. Guess I do kinda go heavy sometimes."  A lifetime of sleeping in nooks and crannies meant he could sleep pretty much anywhere, no matter how loud, hot, or uncomfortable.  Usually he woke easily at anything that could be a sign of danger, but yesterday had been one hell of an exception. But even clonked out that hard, he'd woken up safe.  

 

Alright.  Hog was quickly accruing those trust points in a nice little bundle.

 

He perched on one end of the lopsided desk, crossing his peg and swinging it lightly.  "But come on. We're workin' together. You're doing a bang up job so far. If you're tradin' your own shit to keep the contract afloat, I gotta make sure I'm keeping this shit worth your while.  So... Do I owe ya?"

 

The question had Hog chuckling, the sound a gravely amused thing. "Of fuckin' course you do." He continued laughing as if Rat had just told the funniest joke in the world which in that moment it definitely was in Roadhog's opinion.

 

"I don't do shit for free." He squinted down at the filter, twisting and turning it before dropping his hand down to his lap so he could look at the perched junker. "Figure I've been doin' lots of givin' recently. Gonna have to start takin' eventually."

 

He paused, his back straightening where he was perched.  ...Hoo boy. This conversation could go a few ways. Just needed to not be rattled.  Either way, he was finally fully awake now, the last dregs of drowsiness replaced by nerves.  "...Not a need to take, mate. I'm here t' square up. Gotta keep a happy employee, right? So let's do it.  You know what I got. You seen m' bags. You know my skill set by now. Scrappin'. Buildin'. Buckets' a charm.  Already can tell ya I'll be a good hand in helping get the parts and do some labor on fixin' the bike, if you let me."

 

He shifted slightly.  "And then a'course, there's me."  He rapped his knuckled against his skinny chest.  "I mean, sometimes that comes up in negotiations, and uh..."  His voice trailed. "Well. What's there t' say bout that?"

 

The low rumble of laughter slowed as Rat spoke, leaving Hog impossibly silent as he watched the other play his hand. He knew what Rat was capable of. Had seen the mechanical ingenuity, the impressive amount of strength that lanky form seemed to carry, and the quick decisive thinking. He knew Rat would be helpful in the end, but right now he wanted the man to sweat. To think about the shit Hog had given up to get them where they were. Hell he had dislocated the man's arm for touching his bike and he had willingly forked it over for scrap to get the both of them out of a real situation.

 

So he didn't say a damn word. Preferring to stare Rat down in silence for the time being.

 

Rat tipped his head, fully expecting a reply.  Aaaand nothing came. He straightened a little, resting both hands on his knee and kind of awkwardly rapping his fingers there.  He was silent for a few sparse seconds before he couldn't take it anymore. "OR, ah-- I mean. I could keep on not touchin' the bike if you like?  Maybe ya don't like that?" he asked, cocking his head and giving Hog an uncertain side-eye. "I could... ah... Maybe take on a job for you? Do that and leave ya be?  Maybe there's somethin' out here ya need?"

 

He was silent for another brief, brief pause, before he rushed on.  "Come on, just tell me what ya want. I know how fucked everything is.  Ya were in a house with your bike yesterday, and today you're here, you're bike's fucked, you're shot, and you had to handle it all while I took a nap.  I woke up all in one piece, perfectly safe. I know things are lopsided. Not gonna let it languish like that, mate. Just gotta know what you need. Name it.  I can go out there right now and solve some problems, I can just hop back on the bed, I can-- What do ya want?!"

 

Suffice to say, the silent staring strategy was effective in making him sweat.

 

The longer he stared and the more Rat's voice began to take on a nervous tremor, the faster Hog's lips split into a grin. It was a temporary sort of amusement. It wouldn't make their shit situation any better, but it would make him feel better for a few minutes.

 

Eventually though, Hog spoke up with the full intent of making Rat sweat further. "Get on the bed." He rumbled, arms crossing over his vest with a jerk of his masked chin. "Can't go out there without a mask anyway and I'm not forkin' over mine."

 

...Yep.  And he was sweating.  Alright! That was fine, he assured himself.  These transactions happened. He was a little anxious about doing one so early in what he hoped would be a long-term partnership, after how many miles of trust had been closed over the last couple of days.  Was setting a precedent awfully early, but-- okay. He seriously owed the guy, so here goes. God knew he'd done this for worse reasons.

 

He pushed off the desk, a nervous little laugh leaving him.  "Wasn't sure I was ya type, mate. Guess we have been havin' a cuddle on that bike though, right?  Like anybody could ignore the allure of all this!" He gestured towards his still still filthy body, old blood in his hair and red dust now thoroughly mixed with the usual soot.  And then tossed himself down on the bed, rolling over to face Hog, one hand propped behind his head and his peg leg propped up against the straw, knee bent.

 

His voice came just a little too high.  "Alright!" He cleared his throat. "I mean.  alright," he corrected, his thin voice drawn into a tinny variation on an alluring purr.  "Let's see what you got, uh... big boy." Wink. And he blew a little kiss to top it off, with a quick shake of his head.

 

Hog mentally congratulated himself for being able to keep his composure at what had to be the furthest thing from sensual he had ever seen in his life, and he had been around a long ass time so that was saying something.

 

Waiting until Rat had climbed onto the dirty sheets draped over the soiled straw, Hog let out a grunt before...picking his filter up once more to continue cleaning it. Hoping his dismissal of the man would keep him from peering over his shoulder as he focused on his work.

 

"You'll help me rebuild the chopper." The sentence came after three whole minutes of ignoring Rat's display. "Figure you're bomb and mine shit might make you pick up mechanic shit easier. Would be nice to have a smaller pair of hands for the finer detail shit."

 

Rat lay there poised, back arched and narrow chest puffed, and he waited.   Aaaand he waited. His fingers rapped against the straw. By the time Hog spoke, he was staring at him with a flat expression, flopped on his belly with his chin propped on a fist.  And when he spoke, he let his head fall, face down on the straw before he rolled over with a groan. "...Well played, ya fuckhead," he cackled, pushing to sit up. But he blessedly stayed where he was, taking the hint to keep out of Hog's face for a little bit.

 

"But alright.  Rebuildin'. Scrappin'.  Detail work. All shit I can do!  Will need some coachin' since I never worked on a proper bike like this before, but we got it.  Just need to make m'self a mask, cover up the bits and pieces." He tapped his peg against the ground.  "Have ya seen any posters for me? Not sure what they're lookin' for, yet."

 

"Sorry to disappoint." Hog replied after Rat's groan, filter lifting to the light to squint at it. "Ain't in the mood for fuckin'. Maybe later." It was a lie. He doubted he would ever drop trou in front of Rat for anything other than pissing, shitting, and changing. And that was more than fine with him.

 

"I'll show you shit until you can figure it out on your own. Don't mind teachin' you so long as you pull your weight in the end." He knocked the filter against the wooden floorboards before dropping a hand down to delve into his pocket. Fumbling for a minute before he tossed a crumpled paper ball at the other. "Found a few. Tore 'em to fuckin' pieces but I figure the word is out."

 

And sure enough the crumpled paper had a rough scrawling of Rat's features, horribly exaggerated of course with the declaration for his capture alive scribbled under the drawing next to the current bounty. "Gotta say if you looked like that-" Hog snorted, clearly joking as he continued. "-pretty sure I'd snatch up your offer for a fuck in a heartbeat."

 

He cackled, leaning back on his metal arm.  "Maybe. Maybe the offer's only on the table for a little while."  ...Honestly, mixing fucking with business really did make him nervous, if he wanted to keep working with Hog.  People got funny about that stuff. Either wanting more than he had time for, or getting awkward after, or breaking it off for the sake of another pursuit.  He didn't want to risk that shit here, if he could help it. And as for Roadhog? Well he could not really care less about that offer disappearing. He had more important things to worry over and do than to stick it to Rat, which would honestly be a waste of energy at this point in their working relationship. Business and pleasure just didn't hash well together.

 

"Yeah, though.  Don't worry 'bout me pulling me own weight, I got it.  I'm a quick learner, believe it or not," Rat winked, kicking out his pegleg a little in indication.  He scrambled to catch the paper, unwadding it to look over the exaggerated sharpness of his features, the wildly bugged eyes, pointy little teeth.  "HA! Lookit, mate! It's a perfect likeness!" he laughed in genuine joy. "OH, I am keepin' this. Got me mug on there, but hey."

 

He hopped from the bed, spreading the paper over the desk to work out the crumpled wrinkle lines.  "Lookit a minute. What's it say? Does it say anything about me arm and leg? People round here might know me, so gotta be careful.  Just wanna know if everyone out there is lookin' for a peg." He was used to this. He couldn't read for shit. He'd picked up a few important words here and there, his name and the common signs around Junkertown, if nothing else.  Mom died when he was too young to swing it, and who would teach him after that? But he knew the older crowd, they almost always knew how. He looked to Hog expectantly.

  


Knocking the filter once more on the creaky floorboards, Hog pushed to stand with a grunt. Stretching his arms up over his head where he punched the ceiling with an 'oof' of surprise. Damn. He smoothed a thumb over one of his knuckles as he crossed the room to peek over Rat's dirt speckled shoulder.

 

He barked a laugh at Hog hitting the ceiling.  "Watch out, ya big ol sonna," he teased, before he glanced back down to his own face on the wanted poster.

 

"Gives a basic description of you." A large finger dropped down to underline a section of the words with a black polished nail. "Around two meters tall missing an arm an’ a leg. Will most likely be found in bars or ‘round hubs. Use caution, experienced with explosives." Hog didn't comment on the fact that Rat couldn't read. Practically no one who hadn't been around before the meltdown could. A sad fact he had come to terms with a long time ago.

 

"Says to bring you in alive." He gave Rat a thump on his uninjured shoulder. At least Rat had that going for him if they got caught.  With that done he made to move back to the door to continue being a living doorstop but suddenly paused. The whole 'not being able to read' thing stopping him mid step. With brows furrowing, he used his grip to turn Rat a little. Looking at him closer beneath the glow of the candlelight. "....How old are you?" He didn't need to know the answer. Didn't really care to know it either but he was curious. Real fuckin' curious apparently.

 

Rat seemed thoroughly satisfied with Hog's answer.  "Ha! Knew it was alive. Never find the shit if they just kill me, that's not worth nothin'."  He perked, glancing up briefly to Hog with a smile before he craned down to look over his own leg.  "Gonna have to sort what t' do about this, though. Can wear pants, but still a stick pokin' out the bottom.  I can sort it, don't ya worry. Just might take me a minute to plan out. This, and m'gun."

 

He was already half immersed into the problem, fingers drumming on the desk as he ran over the puzzle in his mind.  Where to get parts for all the things that needed repairs or rebuilding. What to make a mask for himself from. The arm was easy-- long sleeves and a glove.  But Hog's question made him pause, glancing back. He just shrugged. "I'unno. Twenty or sommin'? Twenty and some change. Yeah. Somethin' like that. Why, how old are you?  We playin' the gettin' to know ya game?"

 

Hog squinted at Rat. Openly sizing him up before he let loose of a sigh. "Twenty or somethin'?" God he was young wasn't he? The tidbit of information had Hog's mouth tipping into a frown. Shit. Junkrat was barely an adult and yet here he was balding and scrawny as a damn stick all because of-Hog sighed and sat on the bed. Whatever. That wasn't his burden to carry. It wasn't his fucking fault. "Shit. 'M twice that." He shook his head to clear his thoughts with a low chuckle. "Guess this is what you got to look forward to, Boss." He gestured at himself as he made himself comfortable on the stack of bales.

  


Rat lifted a brow at the once over, before he cackled.  He dipped his back where he stood at the desk, popping out da booty.  Gonna stare, he'll give ya something to stare at. He giggled on to himself, taking back his slouched posture as he stared down at his drawn features on the paper.  "Just twice that? I figured you were old as the hills! But hell, I can't complain if I end up where you are. Big and strong as a bloody truck. Nah, I've seen my future, thanks.  Looks a like this, but more hunched, and more wrinkley."

 

Tearing his gaze from Rat's ass was not difficult whatsoever, sure with that posture there might have been something there to look at but hell even a board bowed when pressure was applied to it and while he wasn't sure about anyone else, the whole malnourished appearance didn't do a thing for him. Leaving Roadhog rolling his eyes as his fingers tucked up to pull his hair free from its band so he could yank out the tangles with his fingers with sharp little snaps as strands caught and broke at the rough movements. "If you even make it to forty. Been with you for one day and saw all the shit you get up to. It's only going to get worse." He replied through grit teeth as his fingers tackled the rats nest at the back of his head.

 

Really though the solution to their problem was rather simple, wasn't it? All they needed was clothing and maybe a hat and scarf and the two of them would be pretty much set to go about the outpost without receiving a barrage of attention from people looking to make a quick buck. "But yeah. If that's the plan we need more cash first." He said suddenly, the shit he had traded was just enough to rent the room and he had..negotiated a favor or two with the junker at the scrapyard. Because of that he was not willing  to give up anything else so hopefully Rat could part with a few bombs or maybe he could pick up a job or two to make them some money to buy the shit they needed to keep pressing forward, putting more distance between themselves and Junkertown.

 

He huffed quietly at the reality of cash.  Yeah. They needed it. They absolutely did.  "Alright. First things first. I need myself some sunnies and a hat.  Leg... not sure there's a thing I can do about it on the short run. Trousers will have to do.  Arm? Fuck it, I'm not wearin' a shirt. Enough blokes with false arms out there anyway, just the leg is a bit distinctive.  Sooo... I need one. More. Favor from ya. You get me those three things? Sunnies, hat, and trousers that fit me-- Then I'll get out there and handle the cash.  I need to be able to do m' scrappin' without getting snapped up. Don't want you with me for it either, so... you do this last thing for me, and ya get to stay here, relax, catch up on ya sleep.  Fair?"

  


Continuing his attempts at plucking out the tangles, Hog gave a nod of understanding. Of course he'd have to do more. He should have expected as much. "And the money to buy that shit? Where's that gonna come from?" He asked tone shifting to something more irritated the longer he fussed with his hair. "Ain't gonna make a habit of bendin' over, Rat. Give me somethin' to trade or fuck...I don't know!" He huffed, clearly annoyed.

 

He grimaced. “...Yeah.  I know, mate. It’s gonna get real bad. But we got this. We had some bad luck at first, but if we work fast and get outta here, we can stay ahead of the pack. With that bounty growin’, who knows. Even if we get spotted, people may scout us and wait for it to grow. Wait for us to get sloppy. We just gotta keep movin’.”

 

And then he stopped, blinking a few times. Shit, Hog had already made the trade Rat was so leery of. To get things handled. For his benefit.

 

...Fuck, he really did owe the guy. He swallowed. “Do we have any of m’grenades left to trade out?  I can usually fetch a decent trade for a six pack.” He just assumed they’d be gone by now, traded out well before Hog’s stuff. The one unconscious just got the raw end in those deals. “...If not, then just uh. Mate, I can do me time on my back to make ends meet, I just can’t do it with this face uncovered. If ya let me bum the mask again...” He trailed.

 

"Didn't trade any of your shit."  His head jerked over to the bags as another silver strand snapped in his hands. "Should've." Hog mumbled beneath his breath, form shifting to twist and wrap his hair into a tight bun on the top of his head where it would be less prone to tangling.  Cursing himself all the while for not taking the opportunity to fuck Rat over just a little when he should have, rather than hock his own stuff and for what? Just to be bent over a rusted table and have greasy hands grip at his hips for a goddamn pair of pants? No fucking thank you.

 

Rat's offer however had Hog snapping at the other junker. His voice low and firm. "That ain't goin' to happen. You're too fuckin' young to be doin' that shit." He wasn't talking about fucking. Sure twenty something was plenty old to be doing that shit, but fucking for favors? For him? Hog wasn't about that. Wasn't about the idea of being a pimp and while he had sold himself, that was different. He had made that decision on his own. But Rat? Hog's eyes burned into the junker with a frown. Taking in the unsure lilt as his voice trailed.

 

Like hell was he going to force the man to do something like that to make ends meet for them. "A six pack of grenades will sell more than you're ass anyway."

 

Rat’s face had a few emotions run across it.  Relief that his stuff was intact. Horror that Hog had sold himself rather than sell someone else’s junk. Holy shit, the man really did have a code. Relief again, that he’d have something to barter with other than himself. And then annoyance that Hog told him no.. Oh no. He did not care for that.  

 

“...Oy!  Not like I never done it before,” he snapped. “I can handle m’own damn self, thank you. Shouldn’t have told ya my age if ya gonna use it like that. I’m not some naive little idiot. I’ve been on m’own since I was a tyke, and I got this old by fighting tooth and fuckin’ nail for each and every year. Nobody thought I was too bloody young to raise m’self and feed m’self and I’m grown as sin now, I don’t need somebody barkin’ me about because of my age. I can barter whatever the hell I wanna barter.”

 

He huffed, slouching. “I’ll sell a six pack here and there, for sure. But if someone we’re dealin’ with takes payment in skin, then it’d be dumb to use what little we got when I can just go handle it.”

 

He wasn't stupid. The fact that Rat had propositioned him minutes ago meant he had experience in the world's oldest profession but that did not mean Hog was going to allow himself to benefit from the other partaking in it. Rat was smaller and missing a limb here and there, and while it would have been easy to agree. To allow Rat to fuck around and make them money, if the man got hurt while doing so it was just going to be more money and time wasted. Hog knew what shit went down during 'negotiations'. He had given and received his fair share of scars from such interactions and to be honest he did not have the time to nurse someone back to health while on the run. It was reckless and just...real fucking dumb. So the offer was completely out of the question. He had a code or something that liked to make shit harder and fuck him over and this was one of those times.

 

However the little shit didn't seem to take his 'no' as an answer, instead it seemed like the other was challenging him over it. Something that had Hog pushing to stand so he could look down at the man. "Don't care what you did growin' up." He rumbled. "You're goin' to get  hurt, and I ain't goin' to dote on you afterwards. And if they want skin? Doubt they'll go for sharp edges when they can have somethin' 'soft'." He cringed at the word. Hating it more because that is what they always said as they saddled up behind him. "You're payin' me to protect you, but you ain't lettin' me do my fuckin' job." He finished, staring Rat down. More frustrated with the whole thing than pissed off, but really to anyone else it would have seemed like the latter.

 

He snorted. To be honest?  He’d only done it a handful of times, and only very recently. He needed a few things, he had a few traders he trusted, and he made his barters. Never with a stranger, and never at very high risk. He was more apprehensive than he let on, but holy hell, he did not like being told no like this. He actually looked a little injured for the briefest moment at the sharp edges comment— He knew Hog was better looking, he didn’t need to rub that part in. “Look. I’m a bloody novelty, alright?  Yeah, I’m skin and bone, but just— trust me, alright? I can get the interest. And nothin’s gonna happen! I told ya I got contacts out here. Know a few blokes I think would be safe for the trade. I’m not gonna take chances on strangers. And you already scoped one out, so...”. He trailed. “I could take over on ‘im, that’s all I’m saying. Just... Don’t want ya in that position again, ya fuckhead.”

 

He shifted to give him a sidelong look. “Look, I’ll sell the bombs before I resort to it, if it helps. Know you’re here to protect me, but I can navigate this shit. If it helps, maybe ya can come along, stand outside the door or sommin’. Necessity dictates, mate.”

 

"Whatever." Hog waved his hand and sat his grumpy ass right back down on the makeshift bed in a huff. Rat's was acting thick in the head and Hog knew that it would be a waste of breath pressing further. But just because he let it go in that moment, didn't mean he was going to let shit happen. If Rat knew the person? Yeah sure. Whatever. That wasn't his business. But strangers? That fuck at the scrapyard with the most pitiful excuse of a dick Hog had ever seen? That wasn't happening. Dealing with people like that was like walking on eggshells. One moment their hip bones would be digging into your ass and the next second they'd be armed and robbing you blind before their bits were even wiped clean.

 

"Should just steal the shit." He mumbled, arms crossing over his chest. "How hard is it to nick a pair of pants and a damn hat?"

 

He stopped, blinking.  "Well, that's easy as shit!  I wasn't gonna fuck a bloke for a pair of sunnies!  I'm talkin' bigger, more important things. Parts, if I can't find all we need with scrappin'!  Whatever you traded someone for already. Whatever it was, musta been important." He moved over to the rickety bed, flopping down to sit.  "Just need somethin' to cover up with to get started, or you're on your own for one last errand." He shrugged, not sure what else to do with that. "I can nick it easy, but I can't show my face out there to do it."

 

Jerking his head towards the door, he grunted.  "And look. How much do we gotta come up with to stay just as we are for a few more days?  Who needs money. The bike's somewhere. We gotta pay on this room soon, I reckon. Anything else, or is all the rest just parts?"

 

"I meant instead of wastin' our money." No fuckin' duh. He rolled his eyes. Fucking for a pair of glasses would be the lowest of the low and Hog wasn't necessarily sure someone could come back from something like that. Water? Sure. Bandages? Shit, he'd done that before. But glasses? No way in hell was someone doing that unless they were fucking insane.

 

He didn't comment on what he traded shit for, wasn't Rat's business anyway but the following questions had him sighing and wishing the bed was larger so he could actually flop back and lay down properly. God he was getting tired and the exhaustion of keeping up with the conversation was only adding to the slow slope of Hog's shoulders as his elbows dropped to rest on his knees. "Got the bike somewhere safe. Room is paid for two days, figured we were going to need them to stock up on shit we lost. The rest?" Another sigh. "Parts. Like you said."

 

His eyes fell closed a moment, allowing himself to rest for a short moment before asking the main question on his mind. "When're you wantin' me to head out?"

 

He drummed his hands on his thighs a little. "Ahh.... you know.  Whenever you want me to get started on shit," he said slowly. Guy had to be spent, but the sooner the better.  "Or... Ya know, fuck it." He walked over to his already partially shredded bag, gripping it with his teeth to tear off another scrap.  He tied it over his nose and mouth bandana style, and threw up his hands. "Done. I'm gonna go steal shit."

 

An eye peeked open as the weight next to him on the bed disappeared, only for his eye to snap shut at the man's bandana. Nope. If he saw something like that he would have to stop Rat from going out and he really didn't have it in him at that moment.  "You really think that's goin' to work?" He didn't think so, but then again people were stupid so...

 

He groaned, shoulders sagging.  "No. Just tired of buggin' ya for shit," he muttered.  "Look, you just rest up. I'll sit here and stand guard or sommin'.  Draw up some plans, or-- I'll figure somethin' out. Maybe I can put sommin' better together if I just scrounge around a little.  But you, you just fuck off." And despite the vocabulary, the words at least were clearly well-intended. "You even slept since it all went down?"

 

"Really?" He snorted, turning his masked face so he could press it into his own palm. "You think I'm that shit of a bodyguard that I'd sleep on the job?" He grumbled, but ultimately he cautiously began to lay back on the straw bales. There was not much room but it wasn't like he moved much while he slept either. "If you plan on leavin', doesn't matter if it's just to piss, you wake me up."

 

...Whoa.  Guy really did take his work seriously.  He moved closer, craning to look to him there.  "...Cripes, you're hardcore." He shifted slightly, before he offered a little grin.  A smaller thing than his usual wild smile, but maybe somehow just a little more genuine.  "Right person was in that bar. Promise, mate. I'm gonna make this worth your while." He reached out, just kind of awkwardly patting Hog on the shoulder.  

 

Despite the close quarters forcing them into contact the last few days, Rat wasn't just the most touchy feely fella.  He also didn't have many opportunities to show genuine gratitude. He was pretty damn floored that Hog had done just as much as he had over these tumultuous few days.  "...Thanks."

 

And then he hobbled away to leave him be, opting to just pay the man back for now by being quiet and doing as he asked.  He had every intention of lingering until he woke up again, keeping the guard, and planning.

 

Hog had closed his eyes by the time Rat was wandering closer, so the touch to his shoulder caught him off guard. Brows furrowing as an eye squinted up to spot that smile that just left Hog feeling more conflicted about shit. Was he doing too much for the guy? Shouldering too much of the baggage of the arrangement all for a piece of treasure he really had no clue existed? Fuck if he knew. Regardless of how he felt about it all, he brushed Rat's hand off of him and turned over onto his side. Pointedly putting his back to the man. "Push off with that shit. ‘M trying to sleep." Was his gruff reply. It seemed that Hog had reached his limits for human interaction and while the little thanks was appreciated a teeny tiny amount, he was too tired to even reflect on it.

 

Instead he was determined to put his last remaining shred of focus to work by attempting to drift off to sleep, thankfully it was not long before his breathing evened out into steady snores that were muffled by the thick material of the mask. Leaving Rat alone to keep himself busy for the time being.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story would not have been possible without Sleepwalks!
> 
> Many interactions/mishaps throughout this fic were decided with the use of a D20. All major conversations, events, and progress are true to our rolls.
> 
> Hopefully you enjoy the spontaneity like we do!
> 
> Have any questions? Feel free to hmu on twitter @unglysus

Junkrat had settled in at the desk, hunched and hard at work as Roadhog slept.  First came the bandanna. He took the scrap of cloth he'd torn and added them to scaps pulled from the bottom of the legs of his shorts.  They were a little further up the knee now, but who cared. It was hardly noticeable. The scraps had been cut into the proper shapes and stitched together with the needle and thread in his repair kit-- now it looked at least a little more like an actual accessory, and not a desperation scrap.  He'd tied it over his hair, taming down the wild puff of blonde.  


  
Hours went by as Hog rested with minimal shuffling on his part. Occasionally the snoring would stop and his masked head would pop up from the dirty sheets to look around for Rat where, once he found the man, he would let out a tired grunt before his head dropped back down and he was out once more.  Content to rest so long as Junkrat kept their deal and stayed where he was until Hog officially roused.

  


Next time Hog cracked open an eye, he'd have moved on to hunching over a notebook.  He couldn't write, but he could draw, and right now he was drawing up an overview of the town.  He knew this place pretty damn well-- Side entrances. Quick exits. A few markers where he knew traders worked, who were more on the level than others.  Areas where you were more likely to run abreast of the gas baron and his crew, marked with grimacing little faces.

  


He was about to move onto the next, when he heard those voices at the door.  Clearly audible because of how thin the walls were. "See. Sleeping just as I told ya." One voiced whispered with a delighted giggle as the door knob began to turn only for whoever was on the other side to curse. "Course it's locked." Another voice shot back before the knob began to wiggle, a clear indication that whoever was on the other side was attempting to pick the lock. "Ya got the bags don't you? In an out and quiet." The voice warned, clearly they were either inexperienced at this or just assumed whoever was inside was a heavy sleeper. He sat up straighter, glancing to Hog, then back to the door.  ...Please, these scrubs sounded like total amateurs. He could handle this alone.

  


Moving to the door, he waited a moment, chewing his lip a little as he watched.  He held fast until he saw that door knob jiggle again, and then her grabbed it and jiggled it back, ear pressing to the door to hear what they made of that.

  


Hog stayed asleep, quietly dozing as Rat jiggled the knob causing the junkers on the other side to sound off in surprise. A surprised gasp that shifted into a gleeful chuckle. "Ya hear that? Think someone's awake~" The voice taunted, renewing their lock picking as the other began to laugh as well. "Why don't ya let us in." They asked. "We won't hurt ya. Just wanna take all your shit and maybe stab ya a little." The voice cooed and became victorious as the lock of the door clicked, signaling that they had managed to get it open.

  


Rat only had a split second before the both of the junkers threw their weight on the door to try and wedge themselves in through the crack.  Laughing all the while. "Come on. Come on. Come onnnnn."

  


Well, that didn't work.  He rolled his eyes, looking back to Hog before he squinted at the door.  He braced himself back against the wall, propping his good foot against the door to just try and kick it shut in their faces as soon as they pushed through.  He knew the gig with this crap, they'd taunt, they'd come rushing in. And maybe that would have worked, if he hadn't braced with his bum shoulder. When the door shoved open and he kicked, his shoulder slipped a little and made him flinch.  The kick just straight up missed, foot catching on the door and knocking his leg sideways.

  


He grunted, ass hitting the floor as he just sprawled there in the doorway.  "...Aw fuck me," he hissed. He was not in a great position. There was no way to make this good, so he settled for scrambling to block their path as best he could.  "Shut up! Shut up, shut up! Got a bloke sleepin' and I don't have time for this shit! We don't got anything, so fuck off! Just pushed into town, ya bloody idiots!  Any stupid asshat knows you wait a few days for them to their tradin' before you rob 'em!"

  


The sound of Rat hitting the floor had the too grime covered junkers giggling from under their tattered veils as they pushed into the room only to be stopped by the man shouting at them, ceasing their laughter as they glanced back and forth, fingers fisting short stubby knives as their brandishing lowered before droppin. "Oi, is that right?" One asked, the other just...made a few non threatening jabs at the air in order to threaten Rat with their tiny letter opener. It wasn't very effective. "Ya ain't got a single thing on ya?" Their head turned, wide sunken eyes looking about the room only to land on Hog who had rolled over and was currently sitting up confused as fuck about all the yelling.

  


He blinked his eyes, waiting for them to adjust before he stood up with an unhappy rumble as he caught sight of the knives. "The fuck is this?" He gestured at the three of them, before he yawned and took a step closer causing the one junker to prod the air again with their knife but in Hog's direction this time. "Stay outta this, Piggy. Ain't talkin' ta ya!"

  


Rat skittered back, brow furrowing.  Alright, now he was pissed. "I told ya I had someone sleepin' in here!" he shouted, not bothering to try and keep his voice down now.  He fished in his pocket, pulling out one of those grenades that he did not want to make use of in here. Still, if these people were stupid, hopefully they would get spooked anyway.  "The only thing I got for ya is one of these, and trust me mates, y' don't want it. So back the hell away before y' make my friend get outta bed."

  


"Ain't lookin' to get cracked." One of them giggled, hand raised in the air innocently as if they were not currently trying to break in and steal someone's shit all while holding a knife that would surely give a fucker lock jaw with so much as a prick from the blade. "But now that ya mention it." The junker's fingers darted out to try and snag the grenade. "Think I'ma be takin' this. As payment ya know. Liars gotta pay a fee an' all." They giggled sending the one with the letter opener into a string of titters. "Yeah come on then. Give us what ya got, and we'll leave ya big sonna to sleep."

  


Hog watched this all happen from the edge of the bed, hovering there a moment as he tried to get his barring on what the actual fuck was going on. Were they being robbed? Is that...what this was supposed to be? "Rat?" He called with a raised brow beneath his mask. The two of them hardly looked like established thieves, draped in dirty patchwork robes with matching veils as they did their best to seem threatening but Hog just blinked. Unimpressed with the entire scene. It was like watching a car wreck, he couldn't look away nor did he want to.

  


...The one thing that Rat didn't expect was for the idiot to try and snag the grenade from his hand. Fortunately his thumb was clear of the pin, because the thing caught on his fingertip and fell, hitting the ground.  Rat's eyes widened, and for a moment he froze. He knew he made those things forgiving of impacts, given his daily existence with them in his pockets, but... just the same. You did not. Drop. Explosives.

  


Fortunately, the smiling little grenade just rolled a little, and Rat hit the floor to snatch it up.  "HOG, THESE FUCKS ARE TRYIN' TO ROB US!" he roared out from the floor, clutching the grenade to his middle and wrapping an arm over it, to try and keep their hands off it.

  


The junker's eyes widened as the painted grenade hit the floor and just as it went to dive for it, Rat landed on it with a thump. Shielding it from their grabby hands as they tried to wiggle their fingers beneath his body for access to the explosive. "Oi! Give it 'ere. Now." They tittered, in no way getting close to snagging the thing from Rat's grip, but that didn't mean they were going to give up on trying. The other junker however, jolted as Rat roared out for Hog and scurried back to hide outside of the shack, their head peeking in the doorway to watch the two wrestle for the grenade with Rat clearly winning.

  


And Hog? He watched it all for a moment. Blinking slowly at the scene before he rolled over onto the bed and drifted off to sleep. Yeah. Rat was handling it. He had yelled at him earlier for thinking he couldn't handle shit on his own so...

  


Rat squirmed where he lay, trying to work himself back-- but those fingers wiggling under his body.  He resisted. He fought. And then he broke into wild peals of laughter, his grip loosening. That grenade popped out from his fingers and he didn't realize it right away, lost in a laughing fit for long enough for the thing to end up in the other junker's hands.

  


Oh no.  Oh, shit.  He knew he wasn't going to blow up the room, but this one was a wild card.  He grimaced, skittering back and kicking hard at his chest with his pegleg, trying to shove him out the door.  Blessedly, he at least made contact.

  


The junker howled triumphantly as they managed to yank the grenade out of Rat's hands. Whooping and hollering in victory, they turned to see their companion clapping excitedly only for a kick to send them rolling backwards out the door about three meters back outside. Coming to a rest in the dirt with the grenade no longer in their hands.

  


Blinking down at their finger, a wild giggle slipped out. "Oi, Tilly. Look-" They lifted their hand where the grenade pin now sat snugly around the digit. "Ya think it means I'm married now?" The junkers broke out into cackles as unbeknownst to them the active grenade sat there on the ground between them. Too busy snorting and giggling to even pay attention as the explosive silent began to count down to detonation.

  


Rat stared, eyes wide.  Nononono! There was no unpinning a grenade.  All he could do was kick the damn thing as far down the hall as he could, slam the door, and hope to god that no one could connect the explosion with them. By some miracle Rat managed to kick the damn thing pretty fucking far down the hallway drawing the curious attention of the junkers who...swiftly ran after the damn thing like it was a ball. Knocking it further down the hallways as the two of them began to scrap over it. Trying to decide who should get the honors of keeping onto the prettily painted ball. He was personally sold on blaming all this on the neighbors and the robbers and absolutely anyone else.  He was pretty sure they'd be safe this far down the hall, but he couldn't be too sure. He ran and dove onto the bed with Hog. He tried to shield his head on the opposite side of the massive junker's body, curled near his chest, while his own skinny body plopped directly on top of his masked head. Protect the heads. They could deal with anything else, if this went sideways. His hands slapped over his hears and he hissed a tight, "Cover!"

  


The impact against his body left Hog grunting and startling awake. Blinking blearily at the torso pressed to his mask, Hog's arms shot out and immediately covered as much of Rat as he could. Or it least he assumed it was Rat. Whoever it was sure smelled like him and he was fairly sure that unique blend of blood and sweat was fucking ingrained into his mind after spending hours pressed tightly together on that bike.

  


His arms tightened around Rat at the explosion and the resulting terrified screams of not only the junkers but a few residents of the motel that had been staying in rooms close to where the explosion went off. The shockwaves of which caused dust to fall from the ceiling as the aftershocks rattled the motels piss poor foundation. Hugging Rat's head to his chest, kept his grip on the man firm. Waiting for the room to topple over or something but nothing came save for a few ceiling tiles that smacked wetly against the wood floor revealing a ceiling filled with mold and spiderwebs.

  


Rat's breathing was quick and shallow, eyes wide where he pressed against Hog's chest.  He didn't move a muscle, not for a long few moments after the blast, when he was sure the ceiling wasn't about to spill open on them.  And then, before he moved, he just whispered rapidly. "It wasn't me. I didn't pull the pin. I didn't throw it, it wasn't me."

  


And then all at once, he was up, belly off Hog's face as he squirmed to get free of his arms.  He was shaken, a tremor in his frame and a taut sound of anxiety in his throat. Accidental detonations did not happen to him anymore.  He'd had some scares when he was first learning, and then of course the mine blast that took his leg and arm-- but he'd been expecting that one.  It was a miscalculation, not an accident. His bombs just didn't go off when they shouldn't. But then, people usually weren't grasping for them like they were toys.  Those idiot robbers sure as hell were idiots, and they got what they deserved, but.

  


Fuck!

  


Hog blinked up at the chest pressed tight to his mask before Rat began to wiggle and his arms fell away easily enough, allowing the man to escape from his grasp as Hog pushed to sit up and look at their room. It was not destroyed by any means, but it sure as hell sounded like whatever was going on outside their door wasn't pretty. There was a good bit of screaming as people tried to figure out what had happened and all of that filtered through their thin walls, leaving Hog to stare at the door before looking back to Rat.

  


So the fuck managed to get the grenade from Rat? The thought had him feeling something almost like guilt welling in his chest as the man vibrated next to him. Shit. He should have been there. Instead his fat ass had gone back to sleep and left his boss to fend for himself. Great. Good job protecting him, Roadhog. He mentally cursed himself as he climbed off the bed and made his way to the door for a peek. "’Course it wasn't you. You're not that reckless." The door swung open just wide enough for Hog to get a glimpse of the crater and carnage in the hall before he quickly shut the door. "Well shit...That's....a mess someone's gotta clean up.."

  


Rat just stared at the floor, listening to the people out there.  "...Fuck," he muttered, dropping his head into his hands and letting fingers catch in his hair to hold himself up.  "I didn't take 'em serious. I didn't. Thought they were a bloody joke. Just two chittering idiots tryin' to pull somethin'.  Shoulda shut 'em down, shouldn't have let it get this far." He looked to the door, teeth gritting. "How many hurt out there?" came his rapid voice, just a little strained.

  


Hog shifted a little in front of the door, glancing back at the wood of it before his eyes cut over to Rat. "None of our business, Rat." He replied. "Wasn't your fault anyway. You think all 'em-" A hand gestured in the air. "-people who make guns take it personally when some idiot shoots someone he ain't ‘posed to?" Hog asked, leaning back against the door as he took in the other's stressed posture. "They were gonna die anyways. Junkers like that don't last." His shoulders lifted in a small shrug. "Least this way it was quick."

  


"Maybe it'd bug 'em a little if they showed them the gun to try and scare 'em back, and then they popped 'emselves off with it," he snapped, careful to keep his voice hushed.  "That was mine. I dont' care what people do when I sell 'em! But that! THAT!" He gestured towards the door, before he spun on his peg and stalked into rapid pacing. "That doesn't happen!  There's precautions! There's rules a' handling! There's-- Fuck, this better not come back on me," tacked on rapidly, hustling to try and peek out the door.

  


Hog pressed his back to the door. Preventing Rat from opening it by blocking the doorway with his large frame. "Yeah? And?" He asked, voice dropping down as well. "They didn't fuckin' know. Were you goin' to stop and educate 'em on proper use before or after they stole it from you? And once they left with it, you really think those two idiots would have been careful?" He rolled his eyes, finding the whole thing rather ridiculous. "'S not our problem."

  


He stared.  He stared hard.  And then he threw up his hands.  "They got it off me by ticklin' me!  They were chatterin' shitheads just like me!"  He grabbed the doorknob, lowering his shoulder and shoving against Hog's side a bit, fruitlessly.  And then he was off again, not really able to be still, just pacing for a moment before he stopped, jabbing a finger towards the door.  "They coulda been me. Things come out just a little different, and I coulda been that. Just a little more radiation seepin' into m' skull, and there you have it.  Still could be! That could be what's waiting. Not lookin' like you, or lookin like me, but worse. But that. I'm three quarters there already, mate," he laughed, the sound more than subtly stressed.

  


"Fuck!  You don't care, why'm I even--  I gotta go. Gotta go, gotta go," he said lightly, voice singsong as he pulled his patchwork bandana over his face.  "Gotta go right bloody now. And thank you kindly, would you move?" He stopped the little tuneless song of the words, thrusting two hands out towards Hog for his part.  Which would hopefully be a 'Sure boss,' and a shuffle to the side.

  


Hog crossed his arms over his chest, chin lifting as if he were ignoring Rat but he heard him just fine. Heard the rapid explanation. The frantic shiver to his tone. The anxiousness as he ripped the bandanna up over his face and shoved at him. Yeah he heard it, but did he listen? Fuck no. Because letting Rat to go out there and see shit when he was riled would not amount to anything positive, especially if he was already this worked up over what he had heard.

  


Roadhog's head tipped back and he stared at the ceiling. Of course it wasn't pretty out there. Gore laid splattered and charred to the walls of the hallway, staining them with bits and pieces of the junkers who had got what was coming to them. "They ain't you though. Won't ever be you. You know better." He pointed out, squinting at the mold in the ceiling. Yikes. "Don't get why you're so fuckin' fussed over it. ‘S not like you're going to let that happen to you." His brows raised beneath the mask. "Unless you are. That it, Boss? You plan on goin' soft in the head on me?"

  


He broke into laughter, falling back a little.  "Goin' soft in the head?! I'm there mate! Soft boiled, it's all just egg whites and goo in here," he said, throwing up his arms in a helpless shrug.  And back to pacing. He stopped at the grease paper window, giving it a long, meaningful look. Then he looked back at hog, lifting his metal fist. Then back to the window.  And he waited just a moment, hoping the big guy would let him out the door, rather than watch him go busting out the window.

  


He rolled his eyes. Rat was sure a dramatic little guy, wasn't he? Sure the man was Eccentric but he wasn't anywhere near as soft as those two fucks had been that was for sure. And while he did not think it was a good idea to let Rat out of the room,he knew it was going to result in...well he wasn't sure what but it wasn't going to be good, he reluctantly shifted to the side and away from the door. Not because he wanted to but because he knew they would be overcharged for breaking that shitty window.

  


"Where are you even fuckin' goin'?" He hissed.

  


And Rat eased, moving to walk back towards Hog and the door.  "Dunno. Just need to walk. Get all up in me head, and sittin' around in a little room listenin' to people that got blown up by my shit--"  That part was a whisper, anxious eyes flicking to the door. "That don't help! Shockingly! I'm in shock." His hands dropped. "Wanna come?  Or are you still sleepin'?"

  


“‘Course I'm comin'. Can't guard you ‘ere." He huffed, could he really sleep knowing that two corpses were right outside his door? Hell yeah, but the stench was...unpleasant. The smell hit them full force as he eased the door open and cringed. Yuck. Hog looked down the hall at the group gathering there with a curious hum. "Morbid little fuckers.."

  


Rat just turned to walk the opposite way, hustling along and  not looking. He really didn't wanna see.

  


...But.  He was goddamn Junkrat.  And he was curious. So he paused at the bend of the hall, taking his moment to crane and look back.  Mostly, he saw Roadhog back there, but even the big guy didn't take up enough space for him to not see anything.  His brow furrowed, he took a breath in, and he pressed forward, faster this time.

  


Welp.  That smell, that sound, and that visual was gonna stick with him.

  


But soon, he pushed out into the hot, open air of the Station.  He took a deep breath of the stinking place, before he looked up to Hog.  "..Alright! Aright. I need to clear m' head. We need stuff. Let's go engage in some fuckin' thievery."

  


Watching the man's head crane around him, Hog slowed just in time for Rat to shoot off and out of the building leaving him sighing and following after the man with a groan. Cringing at the smell clogging his filters, Hog reached up to wrap his hands around one with a frown. "Goddamn that fuckin' stinks." He grumbled, eyes looking around the hub now that there was some daylight and holy shit illuminating the place only made it that more disgusting. Rather than streets the ground was a thick slopping mess of mud and, Hog closed his eyes. Please. He didn't believe in a god but please don't tell him that it was piss and shit.

  


Trying his best to keep his composure, he shot Rat a halfhearted nod. "What're you wantin' first?" He asked, glancing to the corner of the hub that housed wooden pop up shacks filled with various vendors all shouting prices at whatever unlucky fucker wandered by.

  


"Sunnies.  Everybody says m' eyes are my best feature," he said with a wink.  No one said that. He was just trying hard to fall back into old patterns, to forget what had just happened.  He took a deep breath, pushing it out in a huff. "So... That! That's good. Easy starter shit too, they're small and simple.  Then trousers. Then... Maybe we can check on the bike? Do ya have a shoppin' list for me yet, there?"

  


Rat was right. His eyes were definitely....distinct if anything and being that special brand of unique was sure to draw attention at some point once the Queen became a little more intent on finding him and started producing flyers with more and more details about the man. But for now a pair of glasses would work for them. "No." His voice was noticeably disappointed. "Didn't really-" Well for one he didn't want to hover around that shitty excuse of a scrapyard and two- "-have time to look it over. Need to get a good look at it now that it's daylight and you're not limp with your face between my tits."

  


"...Well shit, wish I'd been conscious for that," he snickered.  "We'll stop by the bike next, then. Look it over, hash out the damages."  He turned towards the vendor pop-ups, talking with his hands as he moved down the street.  He was... probably a little too far to the side, stepping in some of that nameless, stinking mess, but  he didn't correct it. Not yet.

  


"Got big hopes for gettin' shit done tomorrow on the scrappin' front!  My spot ain't too far from here. Ya know, I'm actually thinkin' of taking you along.  With any luck, I won't need to be back 'round this way again, anyways. And maybe I'm getting a little paranoid.  Seein' some big fuckers around here!" ....He had? There was really no one of note, particularly compared to the two of them.  But he stretched up his hands to indicate anyway... and caught a pair of sunglasses on display with his pinkie finger. He just kept on moving, finally stepping out of the muck and dragging his mismatched feet a little to try and clean them off.  

  


A few steps more and he popped the sunglasses on his nose, continuing.  "But yeah. Not a problem really. I think we can handle it all."

  


Despite himself, Hog snorted. Clearly amused by Rat's comment as they walked through the sprawling section marked off for the various traders and vendors. "Thought you were firm about me not goin'." He replied, brows knitting as those mismatched feet stepped off the more solid dirt of the path and into the slop. Drawing a grimace from Hog beneath the mask as they continued walking. Not really sure what Rat was getting at until his hands swung wide before tucking down with his prize in tow.

  


Chuckling lowly as they were perched onto the man's nose, Hog gave him a light nudge to the side. "Nice work, for a rat." His eyes glanced back to see the vendor completely unaware. "And not a  single bastard saw you. Hmm...Guess you were right about those sticky fingers of yours."

  


Rat grinned wide beneath his bandana, wiggling his fingers.   The sunglasses were old, battered things-- big and black and round, with a few dots on the corners that must've once held rhinestones.  But hell, they'd do to cover a bit of his face. A successful theft and a little praise-- this was so, so much better than sitting in a hotel room and listening to people recover from an explosion.

  


Hoo, push that thought back under the rug, Rat.  Right on under the rug. "Thank you, thank you," he continued on.  "Trousers will be a little harder, though. Might need just a little distraction there-- can I count on ya on that one?  Big beaut like you, all you'll have to do is be there and ask a few questions, I'd reckon."

  


The chuckle continued at those wiggling fingers before it abruptly petered out at Rat's suggestion.

  


"Ask questions?" He parroted. "'Bout what?" His eyes scanned the area, looking over the various vendors with an unsure tilt to his lips. Hog was not usually the distraction. He was the guy waiting for the distraction to lure someone into an alley where he, Roadhog, would quickly snap their neck and steal their shit. So this was new. Really fuckin' new.

  


"'S not like people sell many clothes here either." He commented, passing by a stand filled with useless bobbles. He was really just saying that. They had already passed a few vendors stocked with clothing, it was just that Hog was not...well he wasn't great at small talk.

  


Rat squiiiinted behind his sunglasses.  Okay, so this guy wasn't exactly a natural at this part.  "Mate, we just passed one. There's a few! Look, I can do the chatterin' if you want, but that means people are gonna be lookin' at me.  And you're gonna have to find me sommin' that fits, and I'm pretty sure you size me up as just "really skinny" without much specifics, and I'mma end up with another pair of shorts.  It's kinda hard to find shit that's long enough. Sooo... You know, talk about the weather or somethin'? Maybe ask if they carry extra extra extra large? I don't know, just chatter, right?"

  


Hog's jaw worked beneath that mask. He was good at a lot of things. Hooking, killing, being imposing. But idle chatter was one of the few things Hog would readily admit he was shit at. People would give one look at him and either want to hire him or try and 'prove' themselves by changing him. And neither of those things called for talking about the weather but fuck Rat was right. He'd either grab something that was too small or get spotted trying to nab it. To say he stuck out in a crowd was a bit of an understatement.

  


So upon spotting the next clothing vendor Hog glanced down to Rat one last time before stomping off to distract the wrinkled woman as she tried to sell her wares. "So uh...You-" He glanced around the stand causing the woman's wiry eyebrow to raise. "-sell shit, huh?" She blinked up at the giant for a good minute before breaking out into a toothless grin. It was her lucky day. Idiots were so much easier to get tied up into a deal.

  


"I do." She shifted to look around the swell of the junker in front of her, still attempting to draw more customers to her. "Take a look 'round, love. I'll give you a good price."

  


And with his lure in place Rat moved. He looked through the pants as casually as he could, just browsing, like any other grime covered, scrawny mess of the population. He found something that was maybe long enough, but too big. As usual he’d make it work, though. Belts were small and easy to steal.

  


Glancing to Hog, he grinned. Alright. The shopkeep was good and occupied.  Easy peasy. He pulled the pants, taking a step back— and he stepped directly on something large, furry, and uninterested in being stomped on with a peg leg.

  


A skinny junkyard dog was there, a muddy reddish color, though it was pretty impossible to tell if that was the fur or the dirt. And immediately it clamped its jaws onto the stick that was poking at him, grabbing Rat’s peg and jerking back and dragging with a vicious growl.

  


Rat hit the ground with a shout, kicking at the thing with his good foot, pants clutched in his metal fist.

  


The squeal of the mangy animal had both Hog and the old woman turning their heads to look in Rat's direction. Watching as the dog attempted to maul the junker's peg leg all while clutching at the pants that had just moments ago been folded neatly on the woman's stand.

  


Her eyes squinted through the thick lenses of her glasses as she called out to Rat but it wasn't with hate filled barking it was with genuine surprise. "Lil' Bobby? Is that you?" She cooed as she leaned over the side of her pop up to look down at the man scrapping in the dirt with the dog. "Oh you silly thing. Always did love critters. How come you haven't come to visit more often? Granny has been waiting on you and look at you~" She clapped her worn hands happily. "All big! Look how long you've gotten! Bet your daddy is real happy you didn't get your mama's short end of the stick on that, huh?" She held her arms out expectantly towards Rat, giving them a little jiggle for emphasis. "Well? Aren't you going to come hug your gran? It's been soooo long."

  


Hog bit down on the inside of his cheek, a snort escaping him as he watched the scene unfold rewarding him with a harsh slap against his arm from the little lady. "Oh you shoo. I'm busy dealing with family now. We've got quite a lot to catch up on, isn't that right Bobby?"

  


Rat jerked at his leg a few times, the dog growling and adjusting its bite at just the right time to pull free. He jumped up, clutching the pants to his chest as he skittered around to the other side of Hog, hoping that the dog would think better of snapping around such an intimidating figure.

  


And then his eyes fell on the little lady speaking to him, and he blinked a few times. There was a beat of a pause. And then he tossed the pants to drape over his skinny shoulder, tossing his arms open. “GRAN!” And he scooped her into a sweaty, dirty, dried blood crusted hug. “Thought ya could use a visit!  Keepin’ busy ya ol’ —“ He stopped. All his affectionate names were insults or curse words. “Dove?” He offered, voice thin and questioning.

  


She gathered Rat up into a hug, tugging that patchy head down to her sagging bosom where she pressed a wet kiss to that grubby forehead. "Course I have, love! Been missing you though, Bobby. Lookit you!" The old woman squealed, pushing Rat back to gently grasp at his biceps for a good once over. "Tsk tsk. Have you been eating right? So skinny!" She pinched a hip with a huff before she snagged a wrapped bundle of bread off the shelf behind her and shoved it to his chest. "Oh eat this. Can't let no grandson of mine wither away. Now let me get a good look at that handsome face!" She squinted through those thick lenses with a titter. "Yep. Just like your daddy!"

  


Hog's teeth bit through the meat of his bottom lip as he tried to keep quiet, a low rumbling chuckle sounding before a tug on his pants was felt and he glanced down at the mutt currently trying to rip a hole in the leg of his pants. What the fuck. He didn't do shit to it. Huffing, he lifted his leg and the dog's jaw snapped down. Forcing it to hang from it's jaw as Hog lifted it into the air to give it a good shake which did absolutely nothing. And as for Rat? Well...

  


He was honestly eating this up. The more she gushed, the happier he was. What, the guy didn’t have family to fawn over him!  This was nice, for once. He grinned from ear to ear, giggling like mad as he was poked and prodded. “Go on!” he cackled, striking a couple of poses for the lady.

  


And then there was bread. His brows shot up, practically salivating already. “Gran!  Thank ya, I am gettin a little skinny now that I think! Such a, uh. A dear! Such a dear. And you’re lookin’ prime as hell, lookit that hair!”  He gave her noggin a jovial ruffle. “Now tell me more bout how handsome I am.”

  


He was utterly oblivious to poor Hog and the dog.

  


Scoffing as Hog wiggled the dog, his brows furrowed and an annoyed huff sounded from the man as he stooped down to scruff the mangy thing. Using his light grip to give a tug on the dog to try and loosen its grip but all it did was make it piss down his boot. Forcing Hog to shut his eyes and take a deep breath. He didn't like to kill dogs. People? Sure. But not a dog however right now as he felt the warm liquid dribble down his leg he wished he had it in him to do so. But he didn't so he continued wiggling the dog's scraggly body in the air to try and get it off of him.

  


The woman, who had dismissed Hog already, had her full attention on Rat. Cooing over the man as she clapped her hands joyfully at his poses. "Such a polite young man too. Oh I'm so happy you came to see me, Bobby. Been missing the family something fierce." She giggled at the ruffle to her head of tight silver curls. "But you look well! Handsome as sin too!" A thin finger darted out to prod Rat in the middle of his chest. "You've been thinkin' of settling down? I'm only getting older, Bobby." A wrinkled hand pressed to her forehead as the other began to idly gather a few more items to stuff into a bag. A few cans of tinned peaches, socks, a pair of underwear. "I'm not going to live forever and before I go I want great grandbabies! So! Get to settling down!" She reached around to thwap him on the rear.

  


Rat puffed out his chest in pride, delighted. “Settlin’ down?!  Ha! Like anybody would have me,” he cackled. “You got a better shot, gran. Give me some aunts and uncles, ya looker.”  He winked.

  


...And then he saw Hog and his predicament, breaking into wild laughter. “Mate, it pissed on ya!” He pointed out helpfully, and then just pointed literally, bending over and slapping his metal knee in a peal of giggles.

  


She gave a firm thwap to that rump once more. "Now don't you go saying that! A cutie like you would do very well at the trading expo. Blokes find wives and husbands there all the time. You start by bragging about your scrapping and soon enough-" Another thwap to that bum. "-you've got yourself a match!"

  


Her laughter petered out however when 'Bobby's' attention shifted to the giant and there was a moment where she stood there with a blank face. "O-oh deary me. I think I've made myself look like a right fool." She adjusted her glasses to squint at the large junker currently fussing with the dog before she clapped happily. "Oh Bobby! Now I know where all your foods been going!" Her hands darted out to press against the tattoo stretched across Hog's stomach causing the man to stop flipping off Rat and look down to her hand in confusion as the dog finally let go and scampered off.

  


"You've been eating for two! Oh Bobby! You dog." She squealed pressing the packaged items into Rat's chest with a big smile. "Pretty as a doll, that one." Her eyes shot over to Hog who was currently rubbing a hand over where she had touched. "Eyes like tinted glass! I'm proud of you, Bobby!" This lady was clearly blind as a damn bat wearing three blindfolds.

  


“Trading expo, yeah?  Maybe I’ll—“. And then he stopped. He stared. And he slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a giggle. “Yeah!” He managed to squeak out. “This is m’ sweet lil... Honeybear.  Gotta keep up on the food and all, what with the uh...bun in the oven”. His voice trailed. “Yep! You got it, guessed right! But hey, Gran. I got a favor to ask. I scuffed up my trousers proper badly. Do ya think I could bum a pair?  I’ll hit ya back next week, just need to get some scrap movin’, ya know?”

  


...Honestly, by this point, he was absolutely going to pay her back. He shot Hog an elated look.

  


Hog shot Rat a dirty look that was completely hidden behind his mask, palm pressed tight to his stomach where he huffed and looked off to the side. So long as he got the shit they needed, Hog would put up with it. Well for as long as the woman kept her hands off his stomach.

  


"Oh Bobby!" She nudged Rat closer to Hog to give them both a once over together. "Well aren't the two of you just as precious as can be?" She asked, her smiling dulling a fraction at Rat's question before she nodded eagerly. "Oh Bobby, you take what you need, love. Figure I've got a few birthdays to make up for anyway." The woman turned and began to rifle through her wares. Sorting through the clothing. "Now let's see...You see anything that might fit you, love? You've gotten so...so lanky since I last saw you!"

  


Grabbing a pair of pants, she went to press it against Rat's legs but stopped short once she saw the prosthetic. Her face became a mixture of confusion as she took a step back. "Wait...Bobby didn't you lose your left leg? Found the prosthetic for it myself..." Her voice trailed and Hog's hand darted out to snag at Rat's harness to give it a tug. Okay. It was time to go. Right now.

  


Rat jerked forward.  Shit shit shit! He shoulda just taken for granted that she couldn't see the pants, and ran.  "Nonono!" he said quickly, giving a little laugh. "Lost uh... both! Got a new one for the left though, very experimental.  Lifelike. Body shop up north." He waved a hand. "But seriously, I'm fine. I'm askin' too much. I don't wanna be a burden on me Gran," he said, hanging his head dramatically, so she could hopefully see the motion.  

  


Aaaall while he took a careful step back.

  


Her eyes narrowed. An accusatory finger jabbing in their direction. "Bobby would not have given up that leg for anything. I got it engraved all special!" Her warm demeanor disappeared, eyes watering a little as she waved the two of them off. "Go on and shoo! You...You imposter!" Her back turned to them as she rifled through her pockets in search of a handkerchief.

  


Hog gave a more insistent tug on Rat. A slightly anxious grunt sounding from the man. This was quickly becoming a scene and he did not want to be a part of it.

  


Rat's shoulders sagged.  Aww... shit. He slunk to the side a little, brow knit.  Oh no. Oh no, he loved her. He bit his lower lip. He'd had a bad, bad day.  A bad, long, crappy day. And he wanted his new gran to be happy, goddamn it.

  


He was taking this indulgence.  He couldn't steal from her. She was too good.

  


So he gingerly crouched a little so he wasn't towering so high over her, and offered out the things she'd given him in open, upturned palms.  Pants, too. "...Sorry, foster gran," he mumbled. "Just-- was fun to pretend for a little while. Bobby's a lucky bloke, not a lot of folks out here have grans anymore.  Or mums, or nothin' like that."

  


Hog grit his teeth as Rat pulled free and moved over to try and comfort the woman. Trying to comfort a fucking stranger that could turn all the junkers surrounding them into a big ass hostile mess. He made to grab for him again but before he knew it, Rat was crouching down next to the woman and offering to give back their shit? " _What the fuck_?" He commented, voice stunned as he backed away from the duo. Oh fuck no. All the work and gushing about on Rat's end was going to be wasted just so that wrinkled old woman wouldn't cry?

  


His stomach dropped as Rat tried to play that pity card once more. It didn't work last time and it sure as hell didn't seem to work this time either if the brisk slap to Rat's cheek was anything to go by.

  


Shit.

  


His eyes glanced off to the side to try and not make the whole thing even more humiliating  but who was he kidding? Shit was embarrassing. So he backed away. Leaving Rat to deal with it on his own, after all if he would have just been grateful and not greedy they could have had food for tonight.

  


The woman stared up at Rat, rubbing her hand gently between her worn fingers as tears were readily streaming down her face now. "Liars don't deserve families!" She snagged the items from Rat roughly, the combination of clothing and the bag of items appearing large in her thin arms. "Now go, and don't...d-don't let me catch you around here again or I'll be calling the guards!"

  


Rat could weather all that well enough. A little embarrassment?  Whatever, he had no shame. A little eating crow? Fine, if he earned it!  He didn’t get caught up on these things. The slap? Okay, that part stung a little.

  


But the “liars don’t deserve families” thing. One eye twitched, his back straightened, and he flipped that sweet old lady the bird. “OY!  Was tryin’ to do right by ya, y’harpy!” he shouted back, skittering to Hog’s side.

  


Well fuck. Hog had not expected the woman to say that. Cringing where he stood, he glanced to Rat. Watching his expression carefully and only once the man flipped the bird did Hog try to corral the man away from the scene. Yep. That was enough. The didn't need to escalate shit further, that was for sure. "Boss let's jus’-" His hand found Rat's good shoulder and pushed lightly.

  


The woman gasped, hand to her chest astonished at the gesture before she yelled after them. Telling them to go to hell along with a few other colorful expletives that would have left her blushing in any other situation.

  


Rat hollered back at her, nudged along a step by his shoulder as a few choice words left him about heartlessness general being really, really old.  Blessedly, then he turned around and stalked away at Hog's side, hands balled into fist and a growl on his lips.

  


Today SUCKED.  

  


He threw up his hands.  "Fuck it! Fuck it all! Try an' do right, and look where it gets ya.  With blown up blokes in the hall and old ladies slappin' ya! No more, mate.  No more from Jamis--" He stopped. "Bobby." He spat the name. He was keepin' it.  Goddamn wrinkly old bag. "BOBBY AIN'T TAKIN' NO MORE!"

  


Hog's hand stayed pressed to Rat, nudging him and increasing the distance between the two screaming junkers in hopes that this outing could be salvaged. The yelling of course drew a fair amount of stares but junkers usually did not poke their heads into other people's business so at least they had that going for them, however a good portion of the market had seen Rat hand over an armful of items and if that did not scream suspicious Hog really wasn't sure what did.

  


"So it's a shit day." His shoulders lifted in a light shrug under the searing sun. "Boo-fuckin'-hoo. We got shit to do." His hand slid down Rat's back to fist into his own pocket and pull out his keys, where he jingled them in front of Rat's nose. "You said we were gonna go do inventory, right R-...Wait Bobby?" He squinted, jerking the keys back up into his hand. "Don't start callin’ yourself that. ‘S shit name."

  


Rat twitched a little as that hand moved down his back, anxiety high along with his bad mood.  He never had been very touchy, the smashed bodies on the bike being the exception. Now he was a taut string of a man, and once again didn't really know how to deal with the contact.  He looked to Hog, and just... shoulder-checked him with his good side, with no explanation at all.

  


"Can't concentrate on that!  You do the bike. I'm gonna steal me some supplies, and I'm gonna bloody do it right," he hissed, glowering back at the marketplace.  "We meet up here. An' ya don't like Bobby, then ya think of something else! I'm takin' it to spite that little hag," he snapped.

  


Hog huffed as that pointy body knocked into him, causing him to stop before just...reaching out to give the man a shove. What the fuck? He had thought nothing about the contact but apparently 'Bobby' did. Whatever. The man could fuck right off if he was going to throw a fit for no reason.

  


Rather than ask about the sudden shoulder in his side, he instead folded his arms and glanced across the compound for that shitty scrapyard. "But you said-" He started off before he just let out an annoyed sigh. "Fine. Whatever. I'll go deal with the bike while you play dress up, Honeybear." He rolled his eyes, the nickname hissing out of his filters as he turned his back and turned to stalk off. Once again being sent off to deal with the more complicated shit by himself.

  


And Rat was stalking off already.   He didn't mind the shove. Fine, he earned it.  Whatever. "Make me a list!" he shouted out. Like he could read it.  He stopped. Looked back. "Can you draw?!" He threw up his hands in an exasperated shrug.

  


Hog flipped him the bird. "You think I jus’ carry pens on me?" He huffed, and continued on towards the scrapyard without a glance back. In the end, he could remember all the shit he needed once he got in there and started rifling around. It would just take a while for him to go through and catalog everything.

  


Rat hesitated a moment.  He should probably see in person.  But... Fuck. Later. Later! He needed to burn some steam first.

  


To thievery, then.  He'd just make it fast so he could catch the back end of Hog's inventory.  And off he went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also if anyone would be interested in being a beta for me let me know. I have a lot of fic to get through and another pair of eyes would help a ton!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story would not have been possible without Sleepwalks!
> 
> Many interactions/mishaps throughout this fic were decided with the use of a D20. All major conversations, events, and progress are true to our rolls.
> 
> Hopefully you enjoy the spontaneity like we do!
> 
> Have any questions? Feel free to hmu on twitter @unglysus

Junkrat appeared at the scrapyard later, a battered camo ball cap pulled down low.  His blonde hair stuck out at all angles beneath the brim, sunglasses dark beneath the brim.  The bandanna was just loose around his neck, and a battered new pair of trousers were pulled directly over his shorts, sagging half down his hips.

 

It was weird wearing pants over the hinge of his peg leg, the cuff dragging in the dust, fully covering the thing.  He limped more than usual because of it, but that was not the thing that stood out the most about him there.

 

That was the pillowcase full of something leaking brown juice.  He'd managed to steal a full goddamn brisket, fully smoked with a side of side of malformed potatoes and carrots.  All loose in the pillowcase. It smelled delicious, but it was a fucking mess.

 

That vendor was going to be screaming in a few minutes, but all Rat could do was smile ear to ear as he hobbled slowly, carefully to the bike.  "Hey, mate," he said, as casually as humanly possible, shifting the wet sack against his shoulder.

  
  


Thankfully by the time his companion had showed up, Roadhog had been able to completely dissect his bike in the scrapyard. The various pieces were laid out on an old stained tarp as he looked them over where he knelt in the dirt. Lifting each one up carefully to inspect in the sunlight as he made a mental list of everything wrong with his beloved chopper.

 

As Rat approached limping however, Hog's posture was stiff and tense only relaxing slightly as he heard the other junker's voice where he let out an audible sigh of..relief? Yeah there was clearly relief slapped across the shoulders of Roadhog at the sight of his companion.  His head turning slightly behind him for a moment before facing Rat as he gave the man a welcoming grunt. "Took you long enough. Looks like you got shit done. Good." He mumbled, his gaze roving up and down the other as he took in the man's new duds as well as the curious leaking sack. "'M ready to get the fuck out of here." The last bit was more of a gravelly whisper, the reason behind them becoming very clear as the owner of the scrapyard wandered back into view with a can of beer and a crooked grin. 

 

The man was short, round, and his bearded face and bald head was smeared with a copious amount of motor oil that just further brought out the lines in his face. "Oh piggy. Don't be saying that. Thought you and I were having a great time." He leaned against the hood of a rusted car and took a long pull of his beer as Hog huffed, looked down, and snagged another component from the tarp. Barking out a harsh warning to the junker who was currently eyeing the blonde with a disgustingly lecherous grin. "Not gonna tell you ‘gain. Push off."

 

Rat sidled his way on up, looking more than smug with his finds.  It had just been an astronomically bad few days, but hell. One afternoon of victories?  It was much needed and much, much appreciated. It had gone miles to improve his mood, settling in at Hog's side as he crouched to look over the spread of parts from the chopper.  "Gonna feast tonight mate," he said, voice high and taut and happy.

 

That was, at least, until he looked up and stared at the scrapyard guy as he made his way closer.  He squinted, a brow slowly raising.

 

OH shit.  This was the guy.  The guy. The skin trader that didn't try to kill you, so far as he knew.  Brows lifted slightly, looking between Hog and the man. For one of those rare moments in his life, he wasn't entirely sure how to react.  Hog could handle himself, but he was oddly... what. Protective? He didn't like the way the man was pushing his luck, approaching the way he was.  And yet... He had offered to take over.

 

He never really guessed he'd figure out which one Hog had traded with, but, well.  There he was. And fuck his luck, he did seem interested, if that lecherous stare told him anything.  He squinted, cocking his head just a little as he looked him over, assessment open. "..Who the fuck'r you?" came his uncertain voice.  

 

What.  He wasn't flattering until it was profitable. 

 

When Hog showed up to the scrapyard, he had come to find out that he traded one junker with diarrhea mouth for another. The man wouldn't fucking stop talking. It wasn't the comments that bothered him. No he had a lifetime of shit far worse than a hiss of 'Nice tits', however what did bother him was the man never stopped. He continued no matter how long Hog ignored him and well...even water droplets eroded mountains eventually. 

 

So when Rat showed up in his new clothes toting a bag that made his stomach growl, Hog was at the end of his rope with the creep. Negotiations were something that were done and not often talked about again and that wasn't because he was embarrassed or nothing. But because business was business and the deal was done and over with. Clearly he was the only one who thought that way. 

 

"Nobody." The man purred against the tin of his beer, pressing the cool beverage against his cheek to escape some of the heat. "Just a friend without a name." He gave a wink to Rat before nudging one of the components on the tarp. "You sure you don't want my help?" He asked, moving to squat down in an effort to get Hog to pay attention to him, something that failed miserably. "Real handy with a tool. Pretty sure you experienced that first hand." He glanced up to Rat after not gaining a reaction. "Gotta say I'm kinda disappointed. Didn't even squeal or nothin'. What about you, Sunshine? Bet you run your mouth more than your pal here." 

 

And yet again Hog remained silent, focused on bundling up the smaller items in the tarp to carry them back to the motel where he could work in peace.

 

"Wow mate.  Miss," he cackled, covering his mouth and giggling at Hog's complete and total non reaction to the guy's attention.  But as for him? The bike had some more time at the place, if he recalled correctly. He wanted to leave the door open to buy some more time, but didn't make it want to seem like an easy sell.

 

So he tipped his head.  "Bloody guarantee ya I do though.  What, that whatcha want? Someone to talk ya ear off?  'Cause seriously, I got that covered, but that ain't what people are usually after."  He cracked a wide smile, gold tooth shining in the sun.

 

The mild come-on was a little... uh.  Unconventional, coming from someone quite as filthy as he was, the meat juice leaking over his shoulder just adding to the overall mess that was Jamison Fawkes.  But hell, he slunk between Hog and the Nameless Friend, trying to give the big guy a little room to work without being pestered by this fucker directly. He could deal with this for a little while.  He stole a brisket, he was gonna be running on that one for awhile. 

 

'Nobody' looked up to Rat as he stepped up to do a very poor job of shielding the giant junker behind him, the sight of which caused the man to snort and choke on his mouthful of beer. "Tempted at the offer. Real real tempted. You look like you'd be a kinky romp. Prolly would take you right here if I was interested. You seem the type to like getting dirty.-" His voice trailed a finger darting out to swipe at that meat juice, where he promptly popped the digit in his mouth before tipping his head to peek around Rat to get a good look at the man currently ignoring him. "-but I gotta say I'm real smitten with that big bitch behind you." His hands came up to motion to the air in front of him, and an odd gesture what with his right hand still clutching that beer can. "Biggest knockers I've ever seen after the Omnium went to shit. Golly.." And yeah he was staring, really obvious about it to before making a disgusting slurp sound that had Hog halting what he was doing to look over at the man. 

  
  


Rat blew a scoff between his teeth, breaking into cackles.  "Not an offer, mate. Just a truth. And..." His voice trailed as he looked down, watching him take that swipe of meat juice without protest.  

 

...A kinky romp.  

 

Hnngh, that was slang for 'this one wants to do the shit that takes some trust.'.  And he wasn't particularly game for that. A little sinking sensation settled in his stomach as he realized... hey.  They may just need to fix the damn bike fast. 

 

The larger junker didn't say shit for a long time, his mask only adding to the awkwardness of the stare down as the man tossed in a wink or two every now and then. Eventually though, he stood and hefted the bundled up tarp in his arms. "Say one more thing." Hog prompted, voice coming out more like a quiet snarl as he challenged the man only for the junker to smile wide and glance to Rat. "He's playing hard to get, but boy is it worth it. Got the sweetest little peach I've seen in a long while."

 

Rat quickly looked back to his partner, a little puzzled at what the man was saying.  Maybe their slangs were getting a little muddled. Just the same, he shifted, wedging squarely between Hog and the man's gaze.  "...Look mate, I get it. Hoggie's a beaut. But gettin' too smitten's weak man's game. That what ya are?"

 

The man shifted as Rat tried to deescalate the situation. Listening but not really listening and that had Hog grinding his teeth audibly as the man laughed. Laughed. "Oh yeah. I'm a weak man. There ain't any shame in it." He said proudly. "I like what I like."

 

When the man did not back down when he should have, Hog gave a small nod of what looked to be understanding before he dropped the tarp bundle and pushed Rat out of the way, closing the distance between him and the stout man as quickly as he could. "That's right. You're weak." 

 

The next few moments happened rather suddenly. Before anyone had time to react, Hog was shoving the 'Nobody' to the sand where he promptly pressed a large thumb to the man's Adam's apple. Squeezing until the man started to go blue and flail and only then did he let go. Watching the junker wheeze and cough under him, anyone else would have thought the ordeal was over. That the threat of suffocation was sufficient enough for the man to learn his lesson. But Hog wasn't anybody but himself. So drawing his arm back, he brought his fist down across the man's face with a sickening crack. Yeah. He was going to kill him, and he wasn't going to give a single fuck about doing it either. 

 

Yanking the man up by his coveralls, Hog landed another hit across his jaw that sent a few teeth and a splatter of blood against the sand. "Who's squealin' now?" He growled to which he was only answered by terrified gurgles. Sure he'd have to dig a hole, but really he was fine with that! Hell even looking forward to doing it just so he could piss on it.

 

Oh. Oh no. Ohhh, this was going in a way that was going to draw just a heap of unwanted attention. 

 

...He couldn’t really blame him, though. He stood there, watching for a moment longer than perhaps he should have, before he shoved forward, lithe frame slipping to wedge between  Hog and the man’s pummeled face. “HOGGIE!” He forced out, holding his free hand outstretched. “Hog. Mate. Lookit.” He jerked his chin slightly. “He ain’t worth it. He’s just a moron in a scrapyard.”

 

He swallowed. He knew damn good and well that if Hog wanted to kill him, the man would die. He had little to do to stop that. So he just managed a husky, “Please.”

 

He had been winding up for another hit the moment Rat wedged in between them and the presence of the other junker actually made him stop. Bloody fist held high in the air as he stared at his face. At those sharp features covered in grime and freckles and a mixture of their old and dried blood. The man's sudden appearance was like a break in the current of emotion he had been swept away by seconds ago, causing his fist to lower slightly. 

 

Glancing from the wheezing man to Rat and back as the other assured him it wasn't worth it. Of course he wasn't worth it. Wasn't worth the effort, the energy, or the time. And yet it felt so good to feed his fist to the bastard under him. To make the same vile mouth that had been taunting him all afternoon go silent. Hog snorted at the idea that only in death could the little fuck actually please a man. 

 

The hand he had been using to pummel the man came up to try and push Rat to the side so he could land another hard hit that left his own knuckles stinging as the man coughed and choked on the blood oozing from his gums and clearly broken nose. "Sorry, Boss." The words were hardly audible over the impact of his fist. "You can punish me for this later."

 

Rat gritted his teeth.  He couldn't blame the guy, this one seemed like a proper creep.  Skin trades gone bad? Yeah, some murdering was fair comeuppance.  But just the same, they had a lot to lose. The bike was dismantled.  They had food to put in their belly. They had no scrap yet for repairs.  And they weren't out there in the dust, where you could do a little killing and not have eyes to see it.  The old woman had said she'd call for guards next time.

 

There were guards.  There was a Baron. And they could not deal with all that right now.  He worked his jaw for a minute, before he dropped his saturated pillowcase full of dinner beside the bike in the dust.  "Lose that, and I'm gonna murder you next. I'm gonna do a little distractin' mate. You just-- you just get this outta ya system."

 

And off he ran.  He needed something to happen that was louder than the beat down, and Rat could do loud.  After the morning's casualties, he was more hesitant than usual as he reached into his satchel to feel for his final two mines.  He didn't mind a little murder where it was deserved, but deaths of random people on the side? He had no taste for it.

 

So not the marketplace.  No question there. That would be a bloodbath.  No, he was going for something that would get a lot of attention, but hopefully people could get clear of before it came crashing down.  His eyes fell on the tanker truck gate, and he moved forward as casually as he could.

 

The base seemed like it'd be the dangerous part here.  Wreck the supports, wreck the structure, right? So he wandered around the first tanker, working the mine into the shadows along its far side, few feet up from the earth.  And then he worked on the other, similar placement, similar height. He was just about to think it had all been pretty simple, before he heard a husky voice call out, "Hey!  The fuck'r ya doin' over there?"

A guard.  He gritted his teeth, sprinting inwards back to the crowd of the town, detonator gripped in his fist.  Immediately, the guard gave chase. People didn't run for no reason. And in seconds, once he was sure he was clear, Rat gave him that reason.  

 

BOOM.  The explosives went off, and with a groaning creak, the structure buckled. A silence fell for a moment, where someone might think that was it.  That somehow, it had settled a little lower, but secure. And then slowly, with a great squeal of stressed metal, it fell. Outward, thankfully, away from the buildings and the majority of people.  Rat bolted into the loose, but now panicking crowd, hoping to god he could get lost among them.

 

Hog did not so much as spare Junkrat a look as he dropped the bag and limped off, leaving him with the bleeding bastard. The steady stream of hits slowed until Hog was just sitting there. Watching. Taking delight in the way the man squirmed and fruitlessly tried to roll onto his side so he would not drown from his own fluids. Something Hog prevented from happening as he pressed down onto the faintly rising chest to keep him in place. To make this shit as painful as he possibly could. 

 

He was a patient man, well usually, so waiting for the life to drain from those eyes was nothing to him. He savored it. Laughing in the man's face as his breathing grew more muddled and shallow until Hog knew any second now the man would be gone. Good riddance. He leaned in, his posture taut as he waited to hear the man's last breath only it never came.

 

The explosions shook the earth, forcing Hog's head to snap up in their direction where it finally dawned on him that Rat was gone. "Shit." He hissed, eyes shifting to look towards the entrance  of the scrapyard. Wondering if it would be better if he left or stayed. If those explosions meant anything then Rat was probably in trouble. He was the one to emphasize that there were rules and precautions to using them after all, so Hog doubted that Rat would do so unless he had to. "Shitshitshit." He cursed, using the still warm corpse to help push him up to stand. Rat had told him to stay here, right? He wracked his brain trying to remember but he had been too caught up in-His eyes glanced to the man and he frowned. Well fuck. All that and he didn't even get to hear him go. The man really was a waste. 

 

While Hog was contemplating his next moves, the guard continued to push through the crowd. Hands darting out to try and snag at Rat and yank him back however every time their arm darted out to do so, another frantic civilian got in the guard's way. Blubbering about the gate and questioning if they were under attack. Fortunately for Rat that provided an opportunity to gain some distance between him and the stressed out guards as they tried to deal with the suddenly swarming junkers all either panicked or so wracked by radiation that they stood around 'ooh'ing and 'aw'ing over the fallen gate, before the inevitable happened. Fists started to fly as junker after junker piled on top of one another, fighting for their share of the loot that resulted after the explosion.

 

Rat worked against the flow of Junkers' bodies.  For once, he was very, very content to let them get all the scrap.  Go for it, kids! He looked back over his shoulder to check for the guard, just to see that riot beginning to break out at the base of the rubble.  

 

A little pang of pride hit him in the chest.  This had to be the most chaos he'd caused with two little ol' mines!  A proper brawl, a scrapping feeding swarm. God, he would be telling this story until he was dead.  

 

But also?  That chasing guard didn't seem to be right on his ass.  Holy shit. He might actually get away with this. He slunk his way straight back to the scrapyard, hands in his pockets and head tipped down, trying so hard to look inconspicuous, but just somehow looking more suspect than usual.  He broke into a run once he was past the fence, hurrying to Hog's side with a wild, electric smile. 

 

"Covered!  Got ya covered.  People ain't gonna come sniffin' around here for awhile yet," he cackled, frame visibly tremoring a little with sheer, unadulterated excitement.  "I did a big one, mate. They are real... Real distracted." His hands slid into his hair, knocking his hat away with the familiar gesture as he broke into peals of wild laughter.

 

The longer Roadhog stood there, the more he contemplated leaving. He could hear the beginnings of a scuffle closer towards the entrance of the compound and after that explosion it really wasn't hard to guess what the source of it was, but that just made him more cautious. Rat wasn't anywhere and if people were going to start throwing hands then that meant that-That train of thought was caught off as he heard a prominent limp outside the fence before sure enough the disguised junker appeared. Grin and all. 

 

"What?" 

 

A finger dug into his ear, as he squinted through his tinted lenses at the other. Had he heard that right? Rat had started what sounded to be a full on brawl with even the occasional scream thrown in for variation, for him? He was sort of touched, but definitely caught off guard. Who the fuck did something like that? He was sure Rat was going to push off, let him throttle the man, and then scold him about it later. But instead the junker blew shit up and started a riot so he could murder in peace. 

 

"What the fuck." He sounded genuinely amazed as he looked Rat over. Scanning the man for any injuries he had sustained from starting the garbage fire, but he seemed fine and that left him feeling...some type of way.  Appreciative? Fuck he didn't know and he didn't really want to think about it. Either way he breathed out a quiet "Thanks." The man deserved that much for sure.

 

And that little word of gratitude was all Rat needed to burst with pride.  He cackled, hunching in on himself and waving Hog off with one hand, flipping it a few times at him.  "Stop, stop, ya makin' me blush!" It was pretty rare for anyone to seem even a little impressed with his hijinks, other than himself.  He was drinking this in. 

 

And he was off again, limping to start pulling the ramshackle gates to the place shut.  

 

"Ya know, mate.  Funny thing, but I think we might just live here now.  For absolutely as little time as possible. We gotta bounce.  All these explosions going down all at once? People are gonna put two and two together, if they're lookin' for me that hard, and--"

 

He paused, looking over to where the dead scrapyard guy lay in the dust.  "And I don't think the owner's gonna complain."

 

An amused chuckle slipped out of Hog, low and with enough strength to send his belly jiggling at Rat's words. He didn't think a man like that could blush and even if it was possible the idea of Rat red in the face was an incredibly funny one.

 

That laugh was even more of a compliment than the thanks.  He stopped at the sound, looking to Hog quickly for a moment, before a grin broke out across his face, genuine and elated as he joined in the laugh.  He wasn't sure what he did that was funny, but he'd done that a few times, now. Actually thought something he did was worth a laugh. That didn't always happen, and he could sure as sin get used to this.

  
  


Watching the gate be yanked shut with the accompaniment of nails on chalkboard level screeching from the rusted joints, the larfer of the pair just gave a small lift to his shoulders as he nudged the corpse with his boot. "Should probably burn 'im." Hog commented with another nudge. "Goin' to start stinkin' eventually." He squinted down at the coveralls that read 'Dean' with a disinterested grunt. "Wonder if we might find some of the shit we need here." He mused out loud, eyes roaming over the various rusted cars and heaps of scrap. 

 

He suddenly blinked and turned to Rat with a grunt. Hog shifted, seeming to weigh something on his mind before he spoke. "Could ransack this place and trade off all we can. That'd get us cash an’ fast too." They'd have to only pawn off general items and nothing that could be traced back to the scrapyard but that should not be too difficult considering the only branded thing he saw so far was the dead man's clothing. And Hog was not stripping a corpse.

  
  


An elated gasp left him at Hog's idea, looking around himself in realization.  This place? Was a scrapper's heaven. Sure, it was probably picked over as hell, but there wa]s so much!  All right here! All ripe for the picking! He raced over, stopping shy of grabbing Hog by the biceps. "That's perfect!  Y' a genius, ya big beaut! We gotta get started. We can do this! I'll take care of the body, I can burn anything, no matter how fulla shit it is.  Can you go to the hotel and pull all our shit out? We can set up here, keep heads down, and come out on top yet!" 

 

Hog glanced away from that grin as Rat rushed forward excitedly and he would be lying if he said his own mouth didn't slip into a crooked grin at the predicament the two of them had found themselves in. A favorable predicament for once.

 

"Mhm." He nodded, mood drastically improving the more Rat laid down the guidelines for their next moves. Now they actually had an idea, a concrete idea at that, of what they were doing. They could keep their shit safe and locked up with plenty of room to work on the bike and most of all-he eyed the corpse as Rat mentioned things full of shit. Okay, maybe he was starting to like this guy a little. "Sounds like a plan."

 

He beamed, nodding rapidly a few times.  He looked back to the corpse once more, before he looked back to Hog.  "And uh.... good instinct, mate. Good instinct on that one." He didn't specify if he meant saying no to him the day before, or the act of actually killing the guy, or what.  But either way, the topic was dropped, and Rat hustled over to start working on rigging up a proper pyre.

 

Maybe just maybe, this was gonna be okay.

 

The content quirk to his mouth fell at the junker's words, head turning just slightly to watch Rat limp off to gather supplies. He had figured there would be questions. That the man would pry and prod and try to glean information from him over the whole thing. Hell he had even tried to stop Hog from killing him so surely there would be something other than a compliment to his instinct? He huffed and started off on his own adventure, not really sure if the little comment was supposed to be backhanded or not. Regardless he did not spend time dwelling on it as he stomped off to collect their things. 

 

When Hog showed up once more, he felt some smidgen of satisfaction that the afternoon had gone fairly well. They had all their shit, a free place to stay, and to top it all off a meal coming their way if Rat's bragging was anything to go by. He yanked the scrap gate open before shoving it shut where his finger tapped the drilled holes with a hum.  So the bastard had a lock somewhere? He'd remember to keep his eyes open for that then. 

 

"Rat!" He called, the raise in volume sending him into a coughing fit that had him thumping his chest with a gloved hand. "Ah fuck-" He wheezed. "'Ve got your shit!"

 

Yep.  Rat had been envisioning the man's murder to mean someone sounding the alarm.  Getting stormed on, hauled away. He could fight, but he couldn't fight off the whole town.  The bike would be picked over for scrap, and spread out on the ground as it was, it would have been a fast and easy job.  And that, would be that.

 

But it hadn't worked out that way.  Not in the least. Sometimes? You just really, really had to kill a bloke.  He didn't need to know the specifics, not right now anyway. That kind of shit was visceral.  He was absolutely one to pry, but when this kind of thing was fresh? For now at least, his own instincts were telling him to focus on other things.  Ask later when tempers were cooled and the chances were less that you'd go down too in the wave of high tension. 

 

Clearly Hog needed to kill this one, and things had worked out for the better because of that push of unpredictable, abrupt necessity reshuffling their plans.  

 

Good instincts, so far as he was concerned.  ...And maybe just a touch of admittance that he'd been right before, during their argument.  Rat did not wanna trade skin with that fella. Not if he was the sort to earn a murdering. Good instincts there, too, even if he hadn't liked it.

 

Now, though, Rat looked up from his fire.  It was a relatively small pyre for a big guy, but materials were too precious to waste.  He was hunched, moving around to jab kindling here and there to keep the blaze fed and hot, not trusting the fire to burn effectively unsupervised.  He lifted a hand to wave to Hog, face slowly being covered in a new layer of soot and the ashes of an asshole, over top of the dirt and grime. "Hey mate!  Good on ya!" 

 

Waiting until his coughing had subsided and his breathing had evened out, Hog approached slowly. Almost cautiously as he examined the pyre and Rat in all his sooty glory. 

 

It was clear from where he was standing that the oil covered coveralls and skin had been the first things to go in a puff of smoke and flame, leaving the quickly charing remains of meat, bones and hair that had his nose wrinkling in distaste. That shit stunk and it was the kind of shit that would linger on your skin and in the fibers of your clothing until you gave them a good hard scrubbing. "Mhm." Dropping the bags to the sand, Hog began to circle around the pyre for a good hard look at the scene and damn if it wasn't satisfying to see. 

 

Once he had his fill of casually watching someone he had murdered sizzle and pop like a cut of meat on a stove, he turned his back to the fire to let the warmth ease the aches in his shoulders and spine. With his arms crossing over his chest, he side eyed Rat for a while. Reading wasn't the sole factor when it came to intelligence, hell Hog had seen many scholars say dumb ass shit on the news in his time, and yet this guy who could not read or write was crafting explosives out of scrap. Was out here pulling off not only stealing a full ensemble from a crowded market, but food? He had successfully incited a riot by blowing off the fucking gates of the Station, he had made it a point to go and check it out once they separated, and was now effectively getting rid of the evidence of his crime. 

 

Hog was impressed. He'd be a damn fool not to be. 

 

"Havin' fun?" He eventually asked, head tipping to the side a little at his own question.

 

Rat was focused.  I mean... it was a reakin' fire, of course he was focused.  He loved this shit. The fact that the thing burning was a dead guy was neither new nor noteworthy, really.  So he poked and prodded at the flames, for once blessedly quiet aside from a little humming under his breath while he worked, high and thin.  When Hog finally addressed him, he looked up sharply, almost looking startled for a second. And then he broke into a wide grin. "Yep!" 

 

And he jabbed his stick into the man's burning husk, flipping a wad of popping fat at Hog's pant leg.  You know. For funsies. Yes Hog, you've found yourself a proper genius. 

 

"Ya hungry, mate?  Dinner's gettin' chilly over there," he said, jerking his head to that wet sack still lying in the dirt near the bike.

 

At first he almost thought the man hadn't heard him. Too busy jabbing that stick into the fire to stir up the coals before he jolted and stared up at him wide eyed for a split second before that grin stretched across his face. Just as he went to reply he felt a sudden heat to his knee and jerked his leg in surprise. 

 

Hog glanced down to the splat of fat against his leg and rolled his eyes. First dog piss and now people bits were on him. Great. He loved being a walking fucking napkin. Pinching it between his fingers, he held onto it a moment, before just reaching out to shove it against Rat's soot covered face. "You eat?" He asked, a low laugh slipping out of him. "If not, you can have a go at this." 

  
Rat broke into cackling laughter, dropping his stick and scrubbing at his face with both hands to get the greasy chunk of dickhead off his face.  The grease managed to just take the even coating of grime he was covered in and smear it around, and wow. He looked so much worse now, if it was possible.  

 

"No bloody way!  I brought that stuff home, and you brought this," he sand, gesturing to the corpse with both hands.  "Who's eatin' what again? But seriously, I wanna strap that brisket to m' face right now. This bloke's stinkin' up the joint, and all I wanna smell is proper supper."

 

Hog laughed again, a throaty chuckle as he flicked the rest of the fat not currently smeared against Rat's face back into the fire. "And here I was thinkin' I was doin' you a favor by offerin' you a bite. Fine. Be that way." He snorted and wiped his hands off onto the thigh of his pants with a grimace. Yuck. 

 

"Doubt you'll be able to smell anything but dirt by now." Hog called over his shoulder, already moving to snatch up the bag for a peek inside. "Plus you stink." He commented as if he had room to talk. "You really that picky?" 

 

He poked at the corpse a few more times, before he looked him over and seemed satisfied that maybe he'd keep that even burn going.  He'd check on him here and there, but he didn't need to babysit those flames anymore. So up he popped, hurrying to skitter closer to that nasty pillowcase of delicious food.  "Stink? Me?!" He gasped. "Not a chance! I smell like hard work and good clean livin'." 

 

No, he didn't.  He smelled like sweaty, bloody, filthy human, jammed into dirty clothes and soaked in gasoline and fertilizer, then topped with a dusting of burning hair and gristle.  That last bit thanks to their crackling friend over there.

 

"Hell yes I'm picky, if a proper meal is on the line!  Come on, come on, let's get into it! Quick, I don't wanna leave Deano burnin' alone too long.  Shit sack will go out on me outta spite."

 

He raised a brow at Rat. Could he really not smell himself or was he just intent on denying it. Either way, Hog gave a snort. "Don't know about you, but I plan on scrubbin' up after this. Surprised I didn't kill the bastard with stench alone." 

 

Hog peeled open the wet fabric and blinked hard. "Well...shit. You did get it, huh?" He had half expected the man to be exaggerating over it and yet there it was. Dripping and oozing juices out into the bag among the malformed potatoes. 

 

"Fuck." He breathed, holding the bag open for Rat to snag his share first. He had found it after all, so that really was only fair. "How the hell you manage to snag that?"

 

"_A scrub down_? Waste a' water," he said, nose wrinkling at the thought.  Ew. Besides, the coating of grime kept him from burning in the sun quite so bad.  Totally functional!   
  
Maybe it was a waste of water, but Hog didn't care seeing as this was mostly likely going to be their last hub in a while once they got back up on their feet. If he was going to be sweating and pressed front to back to Rat on the bike, he wanted one of them clean and if it was him then he was more than happy to take that bullet. 

  
  


But the meat was the focus of all attention at the moment.  Rat thrust two filthy hands into the bag, just gripping the brisket and pulling off handfuls of mostly tender meat.   It was tougher than what people would have been happy with in the old days, but now? It was an unbelievable rare treat, particularly for someone scraping the bottom of the barrel like Rat usually was.  He just shoved the hunk of meat at his face and started taking bites, hunched where he stood.

 

When he finally deigned to answer, it was half intelligible through his full mouth.  "...Bloke sellin' cuts in town. Got lucky, to be frank. Was scopin' him out, and he was workin' on choppin' up a brisket... Cut off his bloody finger," he giggled.  "Fainted dead away. People started gatherin' to pick him over, but I was comin' from behind and saw the bedroll. Snagged his pillow, dumped it out, and snapped up the main cut while everyone was pickin' over the rest.  Scooped in some potatoes, aaaaand here we are. So just don't mind the blood, and we're good!"

  
  
  


Watching Rat rip and tear at the meat, Hog waited until the man had grabbed what he wanted for the moment and sat his happy ass down to better listen to Rat's afternoon. Like hell was he going to stand and eat. Not when the floor was comfortable enough. 

 

"He chopped it off?" He asked with a snort. Waiting until Rat took his first bite before he ripped off a chunk for himself. Crooking a finger beneath the chin of his mask, he lifted it up just enough to  reveal the swirling lines of dark ink across his chin and jaw as he made to take a bite. "Who the fuck is out here buyin' brisket?" He asked, chapped lips parting to sink those prominent dental implants into the meat. Hell brisket was expensive before Oz went to shit and now? Well he didn't even want to know how much cash people were willing to shell out for it.

 

Junkrat cackled, crouching down to squat beside Hog, poised on one foot and one peg.  That could not be comfy. ...And it really wasn't. There had been one sleepless night, one passed out night, and the daytime in between full of running and dirt and misery-- he really did need to take off his damn peg and at least clean up a little around the cuff.  But right now, he was high on the story and well used to ignoring typical pains.

 

"That's the best part.  Vendor? Was butted right up on the edge of the market near the Baron's place.  Had a few nicer stands-- ya know, less scrap, more scratch," he said, rubbing his forefinger and thumb together in that universal sign for money.  "Think this shit was for the real up-their-own-arse types. Baron's entourage and shit. Can't believe I made off with it!" he cackled, greasy hands dragging down his face.  He leaned forward, reaching into the sack to grab a potato and just chew into it like it was a weird, soft apple.

 

Hog chewed thoughtfully as he listened, head tipping to the side slightly as Rat's story continued and what do you know? It got a good laugh out of Roadhog. "Right near the big bastard's place, huh? Don't imagine someone wealthy enough to afford it doesn't deserve to get it stolen." He swallowed with a content pat to his stomach. Damn that was good, and that only made the fact that Rat stole it that much better because people like them didn't eat fancy shit like this. And yet there they were most likely dining on one of the entourage’s dinner. 

 

"Real fucked up that they're eatin' shit like this with their people pissin' in the streets." He plucked a potato as well and turned it over in his palm. "...Good on you for fuckin' 'em over."

 

Rat straightened up at that, grinning bright.  Sweet hell, this guy was just a positive reinforcement machine, when he earned it!  A laugh and a bit of praise. "Thank you, thank you," he said back, giving a theatrical little bow where he was crouched.  He glanced over to check on Dean over there-- yep, still burning. And then he plopped down on his rump, crossing his legs and settling in a little.  

 

"You're alright, ya know?"  He took another big bite, talking around it.  "Tough as nails. Good with the bike. Good with thumpin' people.  And good thinkin' in that head a' yours. Sometimes the big fellas got the lighter clickin' upstairs, but no flame's comin' on."  He paused. "Little blokes get that too, though. But not you. It's been a proper shit couple of days, but... Hey. Here we are. Alive.  Got a plan. Got a place to bunker down." 

 

He leaned to bump his bony shoulder against Hog's arm lightly.  "...Couldn't a done it alone." And he lifted his potato in a little cheers, waiting for the smushy clink as the grease of it dropped down his arm.

 

When Rat plopped down next to him, Hog spared him a long glance as he idly peeled back the skin of his potato. Registering the sudden wave of compliments with a raised brow. Sure everyone liked to hear that shit especially when the most conversation you really had was arguing over a trading price or ordering a drink at the bar. But even then, only one compliment was prepared for not an entire slew of them, and that left him silent as Rat offered out his half eaten vegetable for a little bump. 

 

He was pretty used to the whole 'lights on but nobody's home' kind of assumptions at this point. His was big and people liked to automatically assume that meant his brain didn't grow when the rest of him did, but Rat here was apparently an exception to that. He mentally berated himself for falling so low that a simple compliment to his mental capabilities had his hand turning to bump the starchy balls of mush together before he popped it into his mouth. "Yeah well." He mumbled around the mouthful. "Guess you were in the right bar at the right time."

 

He beamed when Hog indulged his little cheers, taking a massive bite out of the potato, chewing quickly, before he just mashed the rest of it into his mouth with both hands.  Apparently his eating process was the second cousin to a wood chipper, when it was shit this good and they had this much. 

 

Alright! Good feelings all around.  Good food, good sensation of relative security in their position, settling low in his belly.  

 

Now was the time to pry.  "Soooo," he trailed, head lolling to the side.  "Why'd ya hafta kill that guy so bad?"

 

Hog watched him with interest as he shoveled the bits of food into his mouth, hoping to god or whoever was listening that it didn't come out the other end in the same manner. If so he was going to be in for an unfortunate time while traveling with the other junker. 

 

He swallowed and gave a slight lift to his shoulders. "Wanted to." And that was it! A grand explanation!

 

He leaned to the side a little, side-eyeing the shit out of him. “...C’mon!  Gimme the dish. He musta earned it, I trust that,” he cackled. 

 

...As for the rest. Yeah, Rat already knew he’d probably be behind some scrap pile, horking a good chunk of this food right back up in a few hours. Radiation did not make for happy tummies. Right now, though. Right now he was enjoying himself!  Thoroughly!

 

Hog huffed, body turning slightly to face Rat at the question as he shifted his mask back in place and tightened the straps with a good yank. "The..dish?" He asked with a scoff. "Not sure what you're wantin' me to say. I wanted to, so I did. That's it."

 

He wiggled in place a little, face uncertain. He shifted. He cocked in head. And he waited to see if he’d say more. 

 

...Nope. “Just that?!  No story, no nothing? Just felt like it.”

 

He exhaled hard out of his nose, finger coming up to try and press between Rat's brows in an attempt to stop that head from cocking side to side like a damn dog. 

 

"Was sayin' shit he shouldn't be sayin'. You heard 'im." He dropped his hand down from Rat's face and tugged on the straps a little more to make sure his mask was snug. "Didn't expect negotiatin' with 'im to bite me in the ass. Good thing he bit the dust." Hog turned his head away to hide an amused snort at his own joke.

 

Rat pulled back a little from the finger between his brows, eyeing it for a moment. And then he snapped his jaws at the fingertip, though he didn’t bite.  Casual contact was weird, and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. He’d be desensitized to it a bit after another couple of days squashed together on the bike, but for now?  He was apparently back to being true to his no-touchy form. 

 

But the words took his attention from that. He gave a little, “Ahh... yeah. Shouldn’ta been spouting off. Didn’t know what he was talkin’ bout anyways,” he huffed, waving a hand. Apparently that was enough explanation for him.

 

Hog eyed those jaws at the snap. Yeah. He'll have to keep an eye out for that. He was pretty damn sure that mouth would give him an infection in a second if he dropped his guard down. Hell the man didn't even want to take a bath so he couldn't imagine the last time oral hygiene was a concern for Rat. 

 

"Good." He huffed. Happy that Rat had gleaned enough from the conversation that the man was a piece of shit without managing to process any of the details.

  
  


Oh, Rat had processed one thing, at least. He took it as a bit of mismanaged slang, but it had gotten his attention. He looked to Hog a little, shifting. Even if it was a matter of mismatched slang, it made him wonder. Was he like him?

 

Shit, it’d be a kick in the teeth for someone to find out that way, though. He should leave it dropped. But Jamison fucking Fawkes did not have a legendary respect of people's’ boundaries. 

 

Still.  This one was personal on his behalf, as well. If he wasn’t like him, he’d be opening discussion about himself for no reason. So he just sat there, lips tucked into his mouth, biting them from the inside. Vibrating a little with the strain of not asking, eyes locked on Hog’s mask. 

 

It was real discreet.

 

Grabbing the pillowcase, he pulled it closer to him to begin going through what they had left over, which was of course a few potatoes and a small chunk of meat. Well breakfast for tomorrow was settled then, and just as he was about to suggest drying the rest of the meat out for tomorrow so it didn't putrefy in its own juices, he noticed the weird shit that was currently going on with Rat's face. 

 

Glancing at their surroundings for a moment to make sure he didn't miss anything, Roadhog let out a confused grunt before settling back to meeting that unnerving gaze. "Spit it out, Rat. Lookin' half tempted to eat your own tongue." He said, tone dripping with suspicion. Rat wasn't a quiet guy, sure he didn't know him that well but he knew that much. So this whole performance was making him the slightest bit anxious. A faint twinge in his stomach as he waited for a reply.

 

Rat sat there. He stared, nostrils slowly flaring with the strain of not blurting out every question he had. And then he promptly stood, skittered behind a pile of scrap, and started horking up a good half of what he’d eaten in one long, disjointed series of unfortunate sounds.

 

Ah. 

  
  



End file.
